


Cave Quid Optes

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: A Hard Ten Series [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Pain, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Everything is great in 2029. Everyone is happy, life is good. What could possibly go wrong?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You swallowed and licked your lips. “Sam, what did you do?” you asked, quietly. You didn’t want the answer, though.He turned to look in the mirror. “I listened to him talk about this wonderful life you made with my brother. Your happy, healthy twins, your wonderful marriage and huge house. Adam alive, me sober, Ruby in prison. He thought he was talking me out of it, but it just made my mind up for me.”“What…did…you…do?”“Same thing you did,” he said, turning his head to look at you. “I wished.” Your stomach dropped. He wished you out of your happy life…on purpose? “I wished for you, Y/n.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You, Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester, Madison (Supernatural: Heart)/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Reader
Series: A Hard Ten Series [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1240745
Comments: 45
Kudos: 81





	1. Prologue

**Author’s Note** : Cave Quid Optes is part three of the series of series that started with A Hard Ten and a Soft Four. This is gonna hurt, y'all. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.

**Story Warnings: 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem rec), sexy things in the Impala, beginnings of bad things

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You checked your hair in the mirror by the door and smiled at your reflection. You were alone in the living room but you could hear giggling upstairs. You rolled your eyes and walked to the bottom step of the stairs. “If you are not fully dressed and down these stairs in the next two minutes, Dragon-mommy’s coming out!”

“Isn’t it my turn to be the bad guy? Dragon-mommy made Mel cry after that little food fight this morning,” your husband said, walking into the room with his focus on his cufflinks.

“Yeah, and Remorseful-mommy helped clean the oatmeal off the ceiling so it balances,” you said, turning to him. Your breath caught at the sight of him in his dark grey suit with his shiny silver tie. “Wow.”

He smiled brightly and chuckled. “I love that I can still get a ‘wow’ outta you, even after nine and ten years.”

“Oh, you’re gonna be getting wows outta me for the rest of our lives. ‘Wow, that’s my husband’.” You smirked as you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and looked up into his eyes, lovingly. “‘Wow, he saved me from Hell’. ‘Wow, he’s such an amazing father’. ‘Wow, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me’,” you said, as two sets of feet thudded down the stairs.

“They’ve always had perfect timing,” Dean said, chuckling as he stepped back.

You turned to look at the twins, eyebrows raising at the ponytail on the back of Melody’s head. “Who did your hair, little girl?”

“Marty,” she said, pointing at her brother.

“Ah. Nice try, but go get a hairbrush. I’m not gonna let your uncles and grandparents see you like that. Go,” you ordered. The girl groaned and ran up the stairs.

“I tried but she kept moving,” Marty said, sighing loudly.

“I know, buddy. She should have been brushing her own hair, but thank you for trying to help,” you said, ruffling his hair. “Now, go get your good shoes on.”

“The shiny ones?” Marty whined.

“Yes, the shiny ones,” Dean responded, pointing at the shoe rack in the foyer. “Don’t give us crap about it, kiddo. We’re takin’ Uncle Adam to a nice restaurant to celebrate and you aren’t showin’ up in your dirty sneakers. Go.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, reluctantly.

“Are Aunt Charlie and Kyra gonna be there?“ Melody asked, walking down the stairs.

"Yeah. Who do you think baked the cake, huh?” Dean responded.

“And a chocolate cream pie _someone_ couldn’t live without,” you teased with a smile.

“Not even sorry about it.”

Melody handed you the hairbrush and spun around. You started pulling at her hair and looked over at Dean. “Okay, so we’re supposed to be there in an hour, party is in three hours. Charlie and Kyra are gonna meet us at the restaurant. The DJ is gonna set up-”

“Stop. Calm down, okay? There’s a reason you were not put in charge of planning this event,” Dean said, walking over to press a kiss to your temple. “Party-planning makes you crazy. Sam and Kate did just fine, I’m sure. All we gotta do is show up.”

You nodded. It was one of the mental scars from your former life that planning an event turned you into a ball of anxiety and stress. You twisted the elastic back around your daughter’s hair and spun her around to look at her, smiling at her brilliant green eyes. “Okay. Let’s go. Get your dress shoes on, sweetie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were the second group to arrive at the restaurant. You could see John and Kate settling into their spots at the table, Adam smiling in his black suit between them.

“Dr. Winchester!” you called out, happily waving.

“My favorite sister-in-law!” Adam called back. He stood and wrapped you in a tight hug. “And the munchkins!” He twisted and pulled the twins into him.

“If she’s your favorite sister-in-law, am I your favorite brother?” Dean asked, smirking. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Sam.”

“I’m his _only_ sister-in-law unless Sam and Madison ran off to Vegas like we did, D.”

“Wouldn’t be unheard of,” John said.

“I thought you said Aunt Kyra was gonna be here!” Marty said, spinning around looking at the event room. “I want cupcakes!”

You took a deep breath and started to respond but Dean bent down in front of the boy, raising an eyebrow. “Is that how you talk to adults?” Marty swallowed and shook his head. “No, it is not. Now, Charlie and Kyra will get here when they get here and you will get a cupcake when your mother and I decide that you have earned one so you better start being on your best behavior, little boy, or you’re gonna end up with your butt glued to a chair in a corner until the end of the party, understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy twin said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Good man. Go say ‘hi’ to your grandpa.”

“Cake is here, bitches!” Charlie called out as she walked in, her wife following behind her.

“And pie, fresh made!” Kyra said, smiling.

Kate stood and led them to the table in the back of the room. “Score!” Dean followed the baker and your best friend to the back as you turned your attention back to your daughter.

“I know you’re restless, but I promise you, we’ll be having fun in no time.”

“Can I play with your phone?” Melody asked politely.

You smiled and handed it over. “Yes, you can.”

“Well, at least one of them has your manners,” a voice said as a tall brunette approached.

“Madison! Looking gorgeous as always.” You wrapped her in a hug and smiled at her.

Your relationship with Sam’s girlfriend had started off pretty rocky. There was a sting jealousy when Sam walked into Thanksgiving dinner with the model-esque paralegal on his arm. It took you a minute to recognize that you didn’t actually have a right to _feel_ jealous of this woman and that you weren’t upset at her presence. You were just feeling the parallels between Sam bringing a woman to Thanksgiving and you bringing Sam to Thanksgiving.

You really thought you were over it. After six years of therapy, a happy marriage, a family with the man you loved, you really thought you were past most of what happened in the other timeline, but when Sam walked in with Madison, it felt just like meeting an ex-boyfriend’s new girl.

Your husband had been far more understanding than you had ever hoped for, escorting you outside so that you could have time to freak out. “Does she know? Do you think she knows about his past because if he relapses…Dean, if he relapses, she’s in trouble, he’ll break her, look how thin she is, she wouldn’t be able to-” you babbled before Dean wrapped you in another embrace.

“He’s six and a half years sober, Y/n. He can handle this. Can _you_?” Dean asked, calmly. “Because I can go in, tell everybody you’re havin’ a trigger moment, grab the kids and we can go home. I wouldn’t mind missin’ out on the tofurkey.”

Dean stayed with you until your panic receded, then you went back in to make friends.

Madison was smart and sassy, a woman who took absolutely no shit from anyone. She knew Sam’s past, the drugs and the sex work, and told him that was fine as long as it stayed past.

She didn’t know, but Sam was looking at rings.

“Where’s the giant?” you asked, smiling.

“Finding parking. You know how he is about that pickup.”

You nodded, pulling out a chair for her. When Sam walked in, he made a beeline for Dean and they spoke quietly for a few moments before Dean smiled brightly and patted Sam’s shoulder. “You’re awesome. I owe you, man.”

“What was that about?” you asked as the brothers took their seats. Your husband just smiled so you turned to your brother-in-law. “Sam?”

“I promised I wouldn’t say,” he explained.

“Really? You’re gonna put that kinda anxiety on the woman with PTSS?” you asked, pointedly.

Sam looked helplessly at Dean, silently begging to be allowed to speak. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. “Way to ruin a surprise, ya spoilsport. Sam and Maddy are gonna take the twins for the night, so we were discussing booster seats.” You blinked at Dean, confused, not understanding why Sam would be taking the twins to his place. “Has it really been so long that you can’t think of what we’d want a night to ourselves for, Y/n?” Dean asked, amused.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Yes, actually, it has been a long while! You set this up to get some alone time?”

Your husband chuckled and reached across the table to take your hand. “I bought a bottle of your favorite wine and some of those chocolates from the shop downtown and I’m gonna run you a bath when we get home and we’re not gonna worry about Mel and Marty walkin’ in on us or hearin’ shit that might scar them for life. And I intend to make you make those noises you used to-”

“Hey, this is not the place, dude,” Sam said, blushing.

“Knowing the business all the men at this table used to be in, you’re gonna act a prude? Really?” Madison said, laughing.

“She’s got’chu there, Sammy,” Dean said, pointing at the woman.

“Oh, you haven’t mentioned…how’s your partial retirement going?” Madison asked, picking up a roll.

“It’s good. I mean, I’m only goin’ on four dates a month so I got a _lot_ of free time. I’m practically a househusband.”

“We’ve been talking about getting him a small garage, like a little autobody place. He knows cars enough, ya know?” you said, smiling. “I think he’s going a bit crazy being stuck in that big house all day while I’m at work and the kids are at school and I vetoed his idea of homeschooling them because I can’t imagine what he might teach them.”

“Oh, I can fuck up their education without homeschoolin’ ‘em, babe.”

You shook your head and smiled affectionately across the table. After a decade, you’d think the spark would have dulled, but it hadn’t. You might not still be the couple that couldn’t keep their hands off of each other but you were still the couple that loved each other unconditionally. He was still your hero and you were still his princess.

After dinner and dessert, you helped load the twins into the backseat of Sam’s pickup truck and rescued the last of the pie to take home with you. You climbed into the front seat of the Impala and moved to buckle your belt, but Dean grabbed your hand and tugged you across the bench. “You don’t gotta be a good example when the kids aren’t in the car, Y/n. ‘sides, I been wanting to get my hand up your skirt all night and I am not waiting ‘til we get back to the ‘burbs.”

His hand traveled up your thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the interstate. By the time he hit that 85 miles per hour, he was drawing circles across your clit over your panties. Your breath was coming in short and you couldn’t help but grab his elbow. “Fuck, Dean, this…”

“Shit, princess, you’re soakin’ your panties,” he said, rubbing his fingers down to press at your entrance through the fabric. You whined in response to the stimulus and threw your head back. He slipped his fingers under the elastic and sunk them into you. Your first reaction was to close your legs, trapping his hand between your thick thighs. He chuckled, a deep rumble that made your whole body feel warm, and curled his fingers up into your walls. “I miss this,” he whispered when you cried out.

“Dean, fuck, please!” you begged as you spread your legs and shifted closer to give him better access. He shushed you as he pressed the heel of his palm into your clit, still working his fingers in and out of you. “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck!”

“Come on, princess. I want you to cum, Y/n.”

That’s all it took. Your body tensed up, pleasure spreading across your nerves until you couldn’t breathe and had to force Dean’s hand away. “Shit, D.,” you breathed out, eyes on the roof of the Chevy as you tried to come to your senses.

“When I get you home? You’re gonna be feelin’ it for days, baby.” He sped the rest of the way to Clarendon Hills, pulling into the garage and playfully chasing you through the house to your bedroom. You quickly pulled your clothes off, tossing them at the hamper in the corner. “Wait, wait, let me get the wine and choc-” He started, but you grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him down on top of you as you flopped backward onto the bed.

“Later,” you said running your hands up to his hair and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His hands traveled your body as your tongues moved across each other, lovingly caressing the scars on your upper right abdomen as you pushed at his clothing. “Off. Take it off,” you demanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered with a wink, before pulling back and stripping his suit off. He tossed his clothes at the chair in front of your vanity as he peeled them off and you bit your lip as he finally took his boxers off.

“Wow.”

He smirked as he laid himself over you again, kissing you slowly and dragging out the foreplay. You had time for foreplay for the first time in years…but part of you just wanted him inside you. “Love that you still say ‘wow’,” he said, chuckling. He moved down your body, licking your nipple between his lips and pushing you down when you arched your back, before he started down further.

You loved the feel of his lips on your skin, always had. There was something about those plush, soft amazing-

“Right there!” you exclaimed as his tongue slipped along your nether lips. He hummed happily and pressed closer, licking at your folds like a starved man, like he hadn’t done in what felt like forever. You buried your hands in his hair, rolling your hips against his face. “Oh, you…fuck, Dean, holy fucking…”

“You gonna finish a sentence?” he teased, licking his lips as he crawled up your body.

“Yeah. Fuck me, Dean. How’s that for a sentence?”

“Ooh! That’s a good sentence,” he said, reaching down to wrap his hand around the base of his cock, rubbing the head of it down your slit to rest at your entrance. You moaned as he worked his thick length into you, filling you up just as perfectly as he always had. “Still the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Such a compliment,” you joked.

“Same compliment it’s always been, princess. You are the absolute…” He punctuated his words with thrusts of his hips that made you grab at his shoulders. “…best…fuck…ever.”

“Oh, God.”

“I love you so fuckin’ much, Y/n. I love you with everything in me,” he whispered before kissing you again, his thrusts speeding up. You rolled your hips against his, clawed at his shoulders, kissed along his jaw. You could feel how much love he had for you in every movement and you made sure he felt how much you loved him in each responding move.

“Fuckin’ perfect. Love you, Dean. You’re so perfect.”

“You’re more perfect.” He panted into your ear, his pace getting more frantic as he reached between your legs and rubbed his fingertips over your bundle of nerves. You moaned his name as you came, your body going stiff and your muscles clenching to put him over the edge. He collapsed to the bed next to you, panting heavily. “I am not a young man anymore,” he complained to himself.

“Yeah, you still got the job done though,” you said, turning over and looking down at him.

“Yeah, I got the job done, but do you remember when I used to be able to get the job done three or four times a day?”

You laughed and cuddled close to him. “Let’s have a little nap, then we can have that bath and that wine and the chocolates and you can try to get the job done again, huh? Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” he answered, quietly, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up over your bodies. You felt warm and happy and light as you drifted into a nice, dreamless sleep.

You woke cold.

Wrong. The word hit your brain before your eyes even opened, your hypersensitivity to surroundings pushing panic through your system before you even knew what the problem was. Your heart started pounding as soon as you took in your environment. You weren’t home. This wasn’t your bed, this wasn’t your house, this wasn’t okay. You shot up into a sitting position, looking around and trying to keep from hyperventilating.

The room looked familiar. Why did the room look-

“Oh, God,” you whispered as your eyes fell on a picture on the nightstand; you and Sam in a loving embrace. “No. No, no, no. I can’t be here. I can’t-” You stood from the bed, rushing for the ensuite bathroom to look in the mirror. You were you. Definitely you…without the stress-induced weight loss and the thin hair and the sunken eyes…but also, without the last ten years of lines on your face, the scar on your chin from the fall you took running after Marty when he was five years old.

You were back in the Darkest Timeline, your entire fairy tale ending ripped away from you. “Anya, what did I do wrong?” you whispered, looking at your younger face in the mirror.

“You’re back.” Sam’s voice was just barely loud enough to hear but it sent a shock of panic through your entire being. “I finally got you back.”


	2. Not My Home

**Summary** : Suddenly back in 2020 of the Darkest Timeline, Y/n has to find out how she got there and how to get back

**Story Warnings** : bad things. so bad. bad bad bad…mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS…bad things and I’m so sorry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You turned to look at Sam. His hair was greasy, skin pallid, a thick beard across his face. Your eyes immediately went to his arms and the fresh track marks along the veins there.

“God, you look so beautiful. I forgot how-” His voice broke as he stepped closer to you and you took a fearful step back. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Y/n,” he whispered.

Your voice was frozen in your throat. You didn’t know how to talk to this man. This wasn’t the Sam you knew. This was the Sam you had nightmares of. “Stay back!” you demanded as he stepped closer again. You scrambled for something to defend yourself, grabbing the plunger as he entered the bathroom. “I’m not supposed to be here! I can’t-don’t-I _said_ stay _back_!”

He grabbed the plunger as you went to hit him with it and tossed it behind him. “You must be so disoriented, coming from that other future,” he said and his words made you freeze again.

“What?”

“I’ll explain everything. Just…calm down and talk to me, Y/n. Please.” You took a deep breath and nodded sharply and he sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Ten years. It’s…it’s been ten years, Y/n. I never thought…I never thought I’d see you again, hear your voice…I’ve missed you so much.”

He looked so small and pathetic as he ran his hands down his face, but you didn’t let it fool you. This was a monster. “Ten years since what?” you bit out through clenched teeth.

“Since you killed yourself,” he answered, looking up at you with teary hazel eyes.

The words sent a jolt of fear and confusion through you. “What?” you whispered, your hands shaking as you reached up to run your hand through your hair.

“Yeah. You loaded the twins up in the car and-and drove off a drawbridge,” he said, a bit of malice in his tone.

“No.” You shook your head, thinking of your beautiful green-eyed babies. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did, Y/n. You killed yourself and our poor, defenseless babies.” There was a definite bite to his words that time and your whole body tensed at the tone.

“Not me,” you bit back.

“A version of you, Y/n. A version of you did that.” His lips curled into a sneer as he shook his head. “Tiny little Mary and Henry. A version of you strapped them into their carseats and drove off the Cortland Street Bridge.”

‘Wrong’ crossed your mind again. “Those aren’t my children’s names.”

“ _Our_ children’s names. Mary Celeste and Henry Adam.” Sam stood and you pressed yourself against the wall beside the shower. “It broke my heart to lose you, all of you.”

“Let me guess, you went and got high when they pulled my car outta the river.”

“Of course I did. I needed to numb the pain,” he reasoned, picking at his forehead with his thumb and first finger. “I lost _everything_ that day, Y/n.”

“Stop picking, you fuckin’ junkie,” you snapped. “And tell me how you know about where I’m from.”

“I lost everything. My wife, my children, my sobriety, Dean. I was desperate to fix it, to get back what I lost-”

“How’d you lose Dean?” you interrupted. You couldn’t imagine Dean being gone. It hurt too much to consider.

“He blamed _me_. He said _your_ murder-suicide plot was my fault. He said it was the final straw…that I had made my choice, I wasn’t his brother anymore.” The idea that Dean would turn his back on Sam, after everything, you could imagine the toll it had taken on Dean. Sam sighed heavily and turned away from you. “I spent years searching, researching and failing. Until one day I met a man who knew things. He _knew_ you had made a wish. He told me you-you wished to go back, pick Dean off the website, that you split the timeline when you turned left and there was a version of you that was never broken and insane.”

A fire lit in your chest. “You broke her! You broke her and drove her insane! You caused her to-”

“ _You_!” he countered, turning quickly and making you gasp and flinch. “You, Y/n. You can’t disconnect anymore, babe. You’re here now.”

You sneered at being called ‘babe’ by him. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped. “I’m not her. This isn’t my life. Those weren’t my kids.”

“Wrong, Y/n. Because you’re…here…now,” he said, enunciating each word. “You aren’t in that fairy tale timeline anymore. You’re back in the real world.” The way he said it…’fairy tale’, ‘real world’…

You swallowed and licked your lips. “Sam, what did you do?” you asked, quietly. You didn’t want the answer, though.

He turned to look in the mirror. “I listened to him talk about this wonderful life you made with my brother. Your happy, healthy twins, your wonderful marriage and huge house. Adam alive, me sober, Ruby in prison. He thought he was talking me out of it, but it just made my mind up for me.”

“What…did…you…do?”

“Same thing you did,” he said, turning his head to look at you. “I wished.” Your stomach dropped. He wished you out of your happy life…on purpose? “I wished for you, Y/n.”

“Sam, you-”

“I lost everything. I wished for you back, but he couldn’t swing a resurrection.”

“So, you had him _steal_ me?”

“You didn’t belong there in the first place!” he shouted and you jumped, a pathetic squeak pulling out of your body. “You abandoned me to go live some fantasy with my _brother_ ,” he growled and stepped closer to you, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. “Why should you get to be happy when I’ve been miserable since you killed my family?”

“I didn’t,” you whispered, looking away from him. You felt small, sad, crazy in a way you hadn’t felt in years. “It wasn’t me.”

“Yes, it was.” Sam reached out and grabbed your chin, tipping it back and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Now, it was. Because there’s only this timeline now. There’s only one you and that means _you’re_ the one who murdered those sweet children…and you’ve got to deal with that fact.”

Your hand zipped out without thinking and cut across his scruffy cheek. He let go of your chin as you pushed him backward. "Fuck you! You piece of shit! Those weren’t even your fucking kids to begin with, they were Dean’s!”

Sam grabbed your wrists and yanked you forward to fall against his body. “I know, but he didn’t want them…and he didn’t want _you_.” He backed you against the sink, a darkness in his eyes. “You might have convinced Dean to fall in love with you in that other timeline, but here? Here, he refused you…refused your children…sent you back to me with your tail between your fuckin’ legs.” He leaned down next to your ear and you clenched your eyes closed tight. “And back with me is where you belong, Y/n.”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Yes,” he whispered, his breath against your neck making you cringe.

The feelings of small, inferior, breakable, and crazy crept up in you and you felt yourself starting to fall to your PTSS until you focused on Dean. Your Dean. You could almost hear him in your ear, whispering to you. "Take a deep breath, princess. You’re gonna be fine. You survived this hellhole before and you can survive it again.”

“Let go of me or I’m gonna scream so loud the neighbors call the cops,” you said, quietly and intensely.

Sam took a step back and looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” You pushed past him and out the door, heading for the living room. “Where are you going?” Sam asked, following.

“I’m leaving. I’ll find a way to summon Anya, maybe she’ll put me back where I’m supposed to be. I’m not gonna stick around just because you want me to.”

“If you walk out that door, _I’m_ going to call the cops…have you Baker-Acted,” he threatened.

You scoffed and turned to him, grabbing a jacket off of the rack by the door. “You can’t do th-”

His facial expression slipped to one of faux sincerity. “You’re having trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality, Y/n. You’ve made up this whole other world to deal with the fact that your mind broke when you murdered our babies. I’m worried for you. You need professional help, Y/n!” The cruel darkness took over his eyes as he stepped closer. “You step one foot out of this apartment and I will have you committed. Don’t think I won’t.”

You couldn’t find a way home from the inside of an asylum, you knew that. Sam smiled as you tossed the jacket on the floor. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won,” you growled as you sat on the sofa.

“Well, from where I’m standing…I’ve got you so…yeah, it does.”


	3. Down but Not Out

**Summary:** Sam decides to take what he wants.

**Story Warnings:** bad things. so bad. bad bad bad…mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS…bad things and I’m so sorry, **noncon** , **18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** forced orgasms, rope bondage, ball gag, sex toys, breeding kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Trapped.

Not just by circumstance or emotions, but literally trapped. Sam had ordered supplies from Amazon, same-day delivery, and quickly made a prison of the apartment while you dozed on the couch, dreaming of home. Windows were nailed in place, doors barred and padlocked, all communication devices missing but one…Sam’s phone.

“Forgot how slow the internet was in 2020,” he commented, picking at his omelet as he stared at the screen in his hand. When you didn’t engage in conversation, he set the phone down and looked across the table at you. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Your eyes fell to the untouched plate in front of you. You were hungry, your stomach growling at the promise of fulfillment, but you weren’t going to eat anything this monster gave you. Your captor. Your nightmare. The man who pulled you out of your happy existence, for what? For spite? For jealousy? Because he still didn’t understand, even a decade after his wife (hadn’t he called her that?) killed herself and her children to get away from him, that his overbearing and controlling nature was toxic and horrible?

“M'not hungry,” you said, pushing the plate away from you.

He sighed and shook his head. “How long do you think you can keep up this little hunger strike? If you could control your intake, you wouldn’t have those thick thighs I like so much.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what you like!” You were seething a bit at the comment. You were healthy. You were happy. You were fine with your weight and had been for years! Your husband had made sure you never felt like less of a woman for being more of one. “All that matters is what _I_ like and what Dean likes.”

His eyes narrowed at his brother’s name. “This Dean likes 32-28-34 and that’s what he sinks his dick into every night. Check his Facebook, Y/n.” Sam picked up the phone and swiped a few times before holding it up to show Dean’s profile page. His picture was him and a pretty blond embracing and it didn’t take long for you to recognize the Sex Kitten, Jo Harvelle. “He’s fucking Ellen’s daughter. That’s what he likes.”

Jealousy and anguish filled you. Dean had hearts in his eyes. He was looking at Jo like your Dean looked at you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked away from the picture. _***At least he’s happy. Someone in this timeline should be,***_ you thought.

“You should eat. Good food fights depression, ya know?”

“So do antidepressants. They did wonders for me in my timeline,” you snapped.

He chuckled. “You think I’m gonna let you talk to a shrink? That I would let you out of my sight long enough for that?” He stood with his empty plate and walked it to the sink. “I don’t think so. Eat up, Y/n. You need your strength.”

The implication sent a shiver down your spine. What was he planning that you needed your strength for?

“Did that shit ever go away for you?” He was suddenly beside you, sitting in the chair closest. “That Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, did it ever go away?”

You took a deep breath and glared at him. “It’s a _syndrome_ , Sam, and no it didn’t. It got better but it doesn’t just go _away_.”

“Good.” He smirked as he stood, pushing the plate back in front of you. “Eat.”

You picked up a fork and imagined jamming it in his neck for a moment before you dug into the omelet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How did it get so bad?” you whispered, looking around the twins’ nursery. “Why didn’t anyone help her?”

You picked up a small pink teddy bear from the left crib and examined it. There was a matching blue one in the right crib. Carol had sent an almost identical set for Melody and Marty. What was missing was all of the Star Wars gear, the lightsaber nightlight and the Ewok plushy and the Light Side/Dark Side pillow cases. “Where’s Aunt Charlie in this room?”

“She left.” Sam’s voice made you stiffen.

“What do you mean, she left?” you asked, quietly.

“Moved to New York when the twins were about to pop.” Sam stepped over to the right crib and picked up the blue bear. “Everyone left you…and you left me.”

“I made a wish,” you said, trembling as you set the bear down. “I didn’t expect it to be granted. I just wanted to change things.”

“I’m talking about the you that drove off that bridge, Y/n.”

“That wasn’t me.” You felt like you were saying that just to remind yourself.

He hummed and turned to you. “You have to get used to it. You’re not different people anymore.” He stepped closer and put his hand on your shoulder. You tried to squirm away from him, but you couldn’t. “You are my wife, Y/n.”

“No. I’m _Dean’s_ wife.”

“Not anymore.” He pulled you backward against his body and pulled your head to the side. “I’ve spent ten years missing you and I’m not going to let it continue, understand me?”

You cringed as you felt his lips on your neck, a heavy film of disgust falling over you. “I’m not going to-”

“You’re going to do whatever I want, Y/n. You don’t have a lot of fucking options here, baby.” You reached back and tried to slam your elbow into him, but he wrapped his arms around you and held you with crushing pressure. “Don’t you dare, bitch.” His hand came over your mouth and pinched your nose, cutting off all oxygen. It didn’t take long for you to start scratching at his hand, trying to get away from him…but it didn’t work. He was always too strong to fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes blinked open slowly and for just a minute, you were hoping to see Dean beside you. Your hopes were dashed quickly when your eyes fell on Sam sitting on the top of the dresser. “I’m glad you’re awake. I thought you’d wake up sooner.” 

It all caught up to you very quickly. Your mouth was held open, a rubber ball between your teeth held in place with a strap. A ball gag. You were on your side, arms uncomfortably bound behind you and when you tried to move your legs, the pressure on your arms increased. Rope bondage.

“Yeah, I-I pulled out some of my favorite toys. I had some fun shit when I was an escort. The rich old ladies, they really took to bondage after Fifty Shades came out.“ You made a loud noise of protest but he just shrugged. "I wish we could do this without the gag, babe, but you don’t love me right now so…until you come around, this is the way it’s gonna have to be.”

He moved off the dresser and kneeled on the bed. “Don’t worry, though. It’s gonna work out for the best, all right. I’m gonna make you feel amazing.”

Your answering ‘no’s were lost to the rubber ball as he rolled you onto your back, your body putting pressure on your arms tucked behind you. He reached over you and picked up a large blue silicone object that made you try to shift away from him. You weren’t able to move more than an inch before he was pulling your knees apart and placing himself between them. “Ya know, I always felt bad about what I did to you. I mean, I hurt you too much. I know, with how big I am, going at a girl without prep is painful and I was high and I didn’t care. I didn’t even make sure you got yours, babe, and that was honestly my bad. I know you tried to forgive me, but I never forgave myself.”

You couldn’t really believe what you were hearing. Did he really think it damaged you because he didn’t warm you up first? Did he really think _that_ was the problem?

“I’m gonna make sure I don’t make that mistake again. Gonna get you all wet and stretched out on this thing first.” More protests were killed by the gag as you tried to move again. Sam ignored them as he turned on the vibration for the dildo and held it against your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut as the vibrations rocked your body. “You’re gonna like it in a minute. Promise. I remember how to do this the way you’ll like,” he said, focusing his eyes between your legs as he started to move the vibration in little circles around your clit. You shook your head, flexing against the ropes in hope that you could somehow get loose. The futile hope. 

He spit on the head of the dildo and slid it along your slit, running it from your entrance to your bundle of nerves and back again several times. When he pushed the fake cock into your tight cunt and buried it halfway in, you screamed. He smiled as he pulled it out and pushed it back in, all the way so that the rabbit was nestled against your clit. “Doesn’t that feel good, Y/n? Don’t you love havin’ your pretty pussy filled up?” You tried to say 'no’ again as he started fucking the rabbit in and out of you, but the strangled moan that came out of you was muffled just as the word would have been. “Gonna make you cum. Gonna make you like it. And then you’re gonna fall for me again because I can make you happy. I used to make you happy, Y/n,” he whispered in an almost stream of consciousness as he fucked the silicone in and out of you.

Despite the fact that his words sounded like the monologue of a psycho stalker on Criminal Minds and the fact you were terrified and in pain, you could feel your body reacting to the stimulation, an orgasm building inside of you that you were desperately fighting.

“Know I hurt you, broke you, and when I was thinking about doing this I was afraid I was gonna break you ‘gain, but you’re still broken from the first time! Can’t break what’s already broke, right?”

You screamed in frustration, but it quickly morphed into a haggard moan as Sam turned up the power on the vibe. “There you go, babe. Feels good, doesn’t it? Gonna get you to cum all over this blue dick and then I’m gonna get you to cum all over _me_.”

You tried to protest again, but your body decided it was done fighting. Bright stars filled your vision as pleasure tore through your cunt.

The smirk that took over Sam’s face could only be described as ‘evil’. He pulled the dildo from you and ran his tongue along the head. “Taste so fuckin’ good. Now…let’s do it again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two more blinding orgasms and God knows how much time later, Sam stood up and set the dildo on the dresser. You sobbed a bit in relief. Your whole body hurt. You didn’t think you could handle anymore.

“Don’t look so fuckin’ happy. I’m not done with you, Y/n. Not by a long shot.” Sam slipped his flannel down his arms and tossed it to the floor. You shook your head and tried to roll your body away as he pulled his jeans down. He simply pried your legs open and laid his body over yours. “Calm down. You liked the rabbit, didn’t you? You’re gonna like my cock, too.”

You screamed as he started working his thick length into your swollen, oversensitive channel. Everything hurt and with his heavy body pushing down on you, the pain just intensified. “Been hard for hours, watching you try not to cum. Almost went to jack off but I didn’t wanna waste it.” He kissed along your shoulder and neck until his lips were on your earlobe. “Need to give you every drop to make sure it takes.”

Another ‘no’ died in the rubber as you realized the point of it all; Sam wanted back what the other you destroyed, he wanted a family. “Remember how hot you looked all round with the twins, how big these tits got,” he said, battering your cervix with his cockhead. “Can’t wait to fill you up and see you grow again…with my kids this time. Mine, just…like…you.”

He didn’t last much longer before he was cumming deep within you, the excitement of raping you obviously too much for his deranged mind. When he pulled out, he grabbed a pillow and jammed it up under your back, forcing your hips into an incline. “Gotta give it the best chance we can.” 

Exhaustion fell over you and you found yourself falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“It’s gonna be fine, princess. You can power through this.” Dean’s hand ran over your hair and he rested his forehead against yours._

_“I’m so tired, D. I can’t do this. I wanna go home.”_

_“You will. You’re gonna come home. I know it. I know I’ll see you again. You’re gonna see me again, right?”_

_You looked up into his eyes and sighed. “I’m gonna go home. I’m gonna see you again.”_

_“That’s right, baby. Marty and Melody miss you just as much as I do. So, you gotta find a way home. You did it before. You can do it again.”_

_“I can do it again.”_

You were pulled from your dream by rough hands on your thighs. Sam smiled down at you as he grabbed the pillow and pulled it out from under you. “Let’s go again,” he said, quietly, lying down across your body.


	4. Smile

**Summary** : Y/n will do whatever she needs to do to get home.

 **Story Warnings** : **18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!,** bad things. so bad. bad bad bad…mentions of suicide and infanticide, mentions of noncon, **dub-con** , depression, PTSS…bad things and I’m so sorry, 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Are you hungry?” Sam asked, walking in with a tray holding a bowl and a spoon.  
  
“Sam,” you croaked, trying to sit up and failing. “Untie me, please.” Your arms were killing you, your throat on fire from screaming into the ball gag.  
  
“Are you going to be good, Y/n?”  
  
“Yes,” you whispered. “I’ll be good. Please, Sam. I’m hurt.”  
  
A softness came over his face as he set the tray down on the dresser and walked over, kneeling next to the bed and looking into your eyes. “If you try to run, try to get anyone’s attention…I will hurt you so much more than you’re hurting now. Do you understand?”  
  
You nodded. All you wanted was for the ropes binding your arms to be released. After two days being in one position, your body was screaming. You weren’t even considering running, screaming, doing anything that might get you in trouble. “Please. I’ll be good. Please,” you begged quietly.  
  
He nodded and stood. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said, reaching behind you and pulling on the knots. As soon as the ropes were off of you, he helped you sit up and rubbed your wrists and forearms, massaging them to get the blood flowing again. “Now, are you hungry?” You nodded. “Yes? Of course you are. Okay, let’s get you something yummy. I made soup. You want soup, Y/n?” You nodded again and he stood, retrieving the tray and bringing it over to you.  
  
He fed it to you, carefully pressing spoonfuls of soup between your lips. When the bowl was empty, Sam walked away with the tray. A flash of anger had you imagining grabbing that tray and bashing him over the head with it, but you kept your expression blank. He wasn’t going to break you. You were stronger than he thought you were. You were stronger than you ever would have been before Dean saved you.  
  
He wasn’t going to break you…but he needed to think he had.

“What do you think of a bath?” Sam suggested, walking in and smiling at you. You nodded slowly, shifting your legs out from under you. “Let me run it for us.”  
  
A shiver rampaged through your body at the word ‘us’. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d tied you up and raped you repeatedly, he needed to bathe with you, too? You kept your face a blank mask, though. You would endure this and anything else you needed to get through. You would do it to get out, to get home, to see your husband and kids, your brothers and Charlie and her wife. You were going to get back.  
  
Sam picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, stepping into the tub and slowly lowering both of you into the water with your body against his chest. The water was just on the hot side of warm, but it felt amazing on your bruised wrists and ankles. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing soothing hands across your skin. “How’s that feel, babe?”  
  
“It’s nice,” you whispered. He hummed and ran his hand over your hair. You held back a scream of frustration as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. “I’m sorry…for what she did. She should never…I should never have…” You blinked away tears and leaned back against him. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s going to be okay, Y/n. We’re gonna fix it. You’re gonna replace everything you took from me,” he said, quietly.  
  
As Sam poured water on your head from a small cup and started to shampoo your hair, you tried to relax. You tried to pretend this wasn’t the worst situation you had ever been in. “Sam? How’d you do it?” He hummed in question as he tilted your head back and poured more water over your head. “How did you wish us back? Was it a demon?”  
  
He chuckled slightly. “No. I went to a crossroads, offered my soul, but nothing showed up. Maybe I just don’t have a soul worth trading.” You resisted the urge to scoff at the idea he even had a soul. “That’s what you did, right? Called to a demon?”  
  
“I didn’t call her. She found me. Anya hurts men who hurt women. She found me after…” You couldn’t say the words out loud and maintain your calm. “So, who granted your wish, then?”  
  
“Someone I searched for for years.”  
  
“That’s vague,” you whispered.  
  
“Wouldn’t want you to try to wish yourself back, now would I?”  
  
“But whoever…whoever it was, they knew-”  
  
Sam’s hand tightened in your hair and dragged your head to the side. “You don’t need to worry about that.”  
  
You swallowed and nodded as much as you could. “Okay, Sam.” You relaxed back into his chest as he started to work conditioner through your hair. “Did you ever start working as a lawyer? Th-the other Sam, he went to work for the Public Defenders office and he-he met a wonderful woman named Madison and-”  
  
“I know he did. I went a different way.”  
  
“Different how?”  
  
“Turns out, after years of keeping Bobby out of jail through legal loopholes and intimidation of the local law enforcement, I have a knack for it. Found employment with some…worse men who needed legal counsel,” he replied, pouring water over your head.  
  
“Worse?” you asked, rubbing water out of your eyes.  
  
“Let’s just say, they didn’t give me any grief for disappearing to get high.”  
  
“Dealers?”  
  
“Why are you asking so many questions?” he asked, massaging your shoulders.  
  
“The people you associated with…they color the person you are. You stopped talking to Dean and Andy…the good influences, I just…I just wanna know.”  
  
His right hand wrapped around your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “The people I associated with loved how strong and violent I could be, encouraged it. They helped me find my way to the one who brought me back to you. That’s all you need to know.”  
  
You nodded. “Okay. I won’t ask anymore. I’m sorry, Sam.”  
  
“It’s okay, baby.” His hand slipped down your body, under the water and between your legs. “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it anymore.”  
  
You stiffened as his fingers rubbed at your clit. “Sam, I’m not-I’m so raw. Please.”  
  
“You’ll take what I give you, Y/n, and you’ll thank me after,” Sam said, lifting you up and leaning you over the edge of the tub. Your fingers curled around the edge of the porcelain and you closed your eyes tight. He moved slowly, like he was trying to not hurt you as he forced himself on you again. You tried to imagine it was your husband, but Sam kept grunting behind you, telling you how perfect you felt and how happy he was to have you back. He kissed your shoulder as he came inside you. “What’d I say?”  
  
“Thank you, Sam,” you whispered.  
  
“Good girl. Grab a towel. Get dry. I’ll pick you out something pretty to wear.” Sam pulled the plug on the tub and stepped out, walking into the bedroom.  
  
You waited until he had disappeared from view and scrambled for the toilet, retching up soup and stomach acid into the basin. You could do this. You could do this.  
  
That was your mantra over the next few weeks. You could do this. You could play up the Stockholm Syndrome and do what needed to be done to earn his trust. He wasn’t keeping you tied up anymore, but he kept the apartment on lockdown. When he left to get smack, he’d lock you in the bedroom. The first few days, he would keep you in the bedroom while he shot up and went on the nod, but after you spent a few days quietly waiting for him to let you out, he stopped locking it when he got high.  
  
You swallowed and took a deep breath, moving to sit next to Sam on the couch. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. “Y/n?” Sam whispered, just barely loud enough to hear.  
  
“Yeah?” You pulled away slightly, looking shy and nervous. “Is that not okay? I…I won’t-”  
  
“It’s fine. Just unexpected. Do you want to snuggle now?” he asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
“I…I don’t know. I just…I don’t know,” you answered, looking at your lap.  
  
“Come here.” Sam patted his thigh and grabbed your arm, guiding you into his lap. “I told you that you were going to remember you loved me again. I told you that. You’re confused because you want to hate me, but your heart knows. Your heart knows you were never supposed to be with my brother.”  
  
You swallowed down the urge to argue, to spit in his face, to headbutt him, to grab his hair and rip it out, to make him hurt like-  
  
“Yeah,” you agreed quietly.  
  
He ran his hand up and caressed your cheek. “Kiss me.” A kiss. All the things he had done to you and he hadn’t even tried to kiss you. Why was that so much more intimate?  
  
You licked your lips and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. There was no pretending that this was Dean, not with that beard. Dean never let his grow more than a sexy scruff. You just reminded yourself, as Sam parted his lips and deepened the kiss, that this was something you had to do. It was a requirement of your emancipation, a single step on a ladder you’d use to climb out of Hell.  
  
He pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around him, your tongue slipping across his as his hands groped at your hips. He pulled back and smiled, hazel eyes bright for the first time since you were brought back. “I love you, Y/n.” You looked away. You couldn’t say it. He wouldn’t believe it, not yet. “It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to say it back.”  
  
It reminded you of the first time he told you he loved you, how you’d been afraid he was confusing love with obsession. How right you’d been.  
  
“Jus-just not yet,” you whispered.  
  
“I understand.” He ran his hand over your hair and kissed your forehead. “You’ll get there.” All you could do was smile tightly and lean your head against his shoulder.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
You were never so happy to feel the cramps across your lower abdomen that signaled your coming period. It meant Sam had failed.  
  
You had to hide a smile when you told him you needed him to pick you up some tampons and Midol. Sam didn’t hide his disappointment but he just kissed you and sighed. “I’ll pick you up a Hershey’s bar, too.”  
  
“That sounds awesome. Thank you, Sam.”  
  
“Anything for you, babe.” You smiled at him and walked to the bedroom, sitting on the bed and picking up the book from your side table. Sam picked up the padlock from the dresser and smiled softly before shutting you in and locking the door.  
  
You waited a few minutes before you walked over to the dresser and grabbed two bobby pins and the last of the padlocks from the pack Sam bought on Amazon. You had never picked a lock, but you were damn sure gonna figure it out. You had read a how-to online years ago (or years in the future, it was getting hard to keep the time straight) and you knew that you could get it to work eventually.  
  
You could feel the pins slipping into place. It was working…just taking far too long. You heard the door open before you had the chance to unlock the padlock and you set the lock back in its place and hid the bobby pins under the mattress before picking your book back up and flipping a few pages past where you were when Sam left.  
  
You smiled at him as he unlocked the door and opened it, setting a plastic bag on the end of the bed. “Thanks, Sam,” you said, digging into the bag for the box of Midol.  
  
“As soon as you’re done bleeding,” Sam started, leaning down to kiss your temple. “We’re gonna double-down on trying.”  
  
You smiled up at him and pressed your lips to his. “Sounds like a great idea, Sam.”  
  
“Can’t wait for you to make me a daddy again,” he said.  
  
All you could do was smile.


	5. Escape

**Summary** : Y/n escapes and runs to the one place she knows where to go.

**Story Warnings** : bad things. so bad. bad bad bad…mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS…bad things and I’m so sorry, mentions of noncon, dubcon, **drug use**

The first time you got the lock open, Sam was passed out on the couch with a belt around his upper arm. You clicked the lock closed and did it again, urging yourself to go faster. Sam’s time on the nod averaged about half an hour so you had to get out and as far away as possible in that time.

You got your time down to a little over eight minutes after several days of practicing every chance you had. It worried you. It didn’t seem fast enough, especially knowing you weren’t going to have a vehicle to escape in.

“Isn’t heroin supposed to lessen the libido?” you whispered to yourself as you wiped cum out of your pussy.

You tossed the toilet paper into the toilet and flushed, looking down at the e.p.t in the trash can. Negative. Just like the two underneath it. Someone in Heaven was looking out for you…in that aspect, at least. It was getting harder to hide your relief, though, with every negative pregnancy test. You wanted to do a happy dance every time, but you had to feign sadness and pretend you were just as disappointed in the results as Sam was. It was getting hard to not laugh in his face and question whether the drugs broke his dick.

Sam was cooking his smack on a spoon when you exited the bathroom. You grimaced and walked into the kitchen for water. You took a deep breath and quietly reached under the sink to grab a pair of tennis shoes. You slipped them on and tightened the laces, pulling your bent bobby pins out of your hoodie pocket and tiptoeing in front of the bedroom where Sam was nodding off to the front door.

Your heart was pounding as you slipped the bent tension bar you made into the keyhole and turned it before sliding the pick in. Sam moaned in the bedroom and you jerked, losing your place and having to reset and start over. You took a steadying breath and started to pick the lock. You let out a happy breath of a laugh when the lock clicked open and you quietly turned the knob and slipped through into the hallway. You didn’t close the door behind you, just rushing down the hallway to the elevator. You put your hood up before the elevator hit the lobby, not wanting anyone to notice the dead woman escaping her apartment.

As soon as you were on the street, you took off running. It was ten blocks before you slowed down to catch your breath and reorient yourself. You had one option, one place to go. An apartment building thirty-six blocks away. You ran as much of it as you could.

The elevator didn’t work. You reminded yourself of that as you punched in the code on the door to enter Dean’s apartment building. You ran up the stairs, ignoring the thud of your feet on the steps as you hauled yourself up them. You slowed your pace as you made it to the fourth floor, taking a deep breath to ease your panting and knocked on the door of 411. You looked around, feeling exposed in the long hallway without any cover. You waited a few moments before you reached over the door frame and ran your fingers over the wood. “ _Yes_!” you whispered as your fingertips bumped the key there.

You let yourself into his apartment and immediately locked the door behind you. A bit of nostalgia came over you as you looked around Dean’s living room. It looked just like it had when you were dating Dean. Except, there were more whiskey bottles around the place, less light…and a dozen pictures of Dean and Jo among the pictures of Bobby, Adam, John, and a much younger Sam.

You ran your fingers down a frame you remembered buying for Dean in March of 2019. It used to have a picture of you, Sam, and Dean from the day Sam got his sixty day chip. Now it held a picture of Jo Harvelle. You shook your head, questioning whether you should even be in Dean’s apartment. You didn’t know who else to go to, though, so you kept looking around.

His kitchen was exactly what you remembered, his bedroom perfectly right, but when you looked in the office, which used to double as a gym, you gasped. It was almost a shrine. All of his pictures of Mary were on the walls, along with every picture of you. They were all lovingly placed around his computer screen, along with several receipts from Denny’s breakfasts and a ribbon you recognized as one of the ones you used to wear in your hair and a note you wrote calling Dean ‘your most wonderful friend’.

You sat in his desk chair and sighed. He hadn’t forgotten you. He might not love you, he might have denied your children and rejected you so that you ended up married to his brother, but he hadn’t forgotten _you_ any more than he’d forgotten his mother.

The sound of keys in the door made you jump up and run to the office door, looking out to see Dean walk in, a paper sack under his arm. He tucked his keys in his pocket and headed for the kitchen. He was humming something and you couldn’t quite make out what it was until he started singing. “Know my baby, lord, said is really sloppy drunk. I know my mama, lord, a brown skin but she ain’t no plum.”

You smiled softly. Riverside always sounded so amazing in Dean’s voice. It reminded you of the time you and Dean…your Dean…sang karaoke. You wanted to sing Riverside for him, but you had to sing Ramble On, instead. It helped win him over all the same.

“See my baby, tell her, Tell her hurry home. Had no lovin’, since my baby gone. See my baby, Tell'er hurry on home. I ain’t had, Lord, my right mind, Since my rider’s been gone.” He seemed so happy, singing as he put bottles in the liquor cabinet and beers in the fridge. You almost didn’t want to bring him into your craziness. But with Charlie gone and your entire existence wiped because your alternate self is officially dead, Dean was your only option. “Hey, she promises, She’s my rider. I wanna tell you, She’s my rider. I know you’re mine, She’s my rider. She ain’t but sixteen, But she’s my rider.”

You were shaking a little as you stepped out of the office. “You always sing a little louder when there’s no one around.”

He jumped and twisted, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were a ghost. “Y/n?”

You stepped closer to him and he backed up into the open fridge. “Hope you don’t mind, I let myself in. Didn’t know how long you were gonna be out.” He didn’t say anything, but his lips parted like he wanted to speak. “I was a bit nervous that your girlfriend would be with you when you showed up…you and Jo look really happy together.”

“Wh-I…Y/n?”

“Yeah. I know this is crazy, but I’m alive and I’ll explain everything and-”

A loud sob cracked out of Dean’s chest as he lurched forward and pulled you against his chest. “Fuckin’ lost you,” he cried into the top of your head. You were shocked at the way he was acting, he seemed so okay before that you didn’t think he was that affected. “I’m so sorry, princess, I never meant-”

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered.

“No, no it’s-it’s not okay, Y/n.” He sniffled and pulled back to look down at you. “You killed yourself. You’re…how are you here?”

You got a little lost looking into those eyes you knew so well filled with all that pain. “It’s a _really_ long story, D., and I don’t even know where to start and I don’t think you’re gonna believe me but it boils down to-to Sam fucked me over again and he stole me and locked me up and raped me _again_ but I got away and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, he what?” Dean moved you and pushed you gently to sit on his sofa. “Start at the beginning. You drove off the bridge, right? How’d you survive?”

“That’s not the beginning, Dean,” you said, exasperated. You ran your hand through your hair and shook your head. “Okay, um…please, give me the benefit of a doubt here because I know that this is gonna be hard to believe and I need you to listen to me before you decide I’m crazy. Just remember that you’re talking to a dead woman and take your reservations off the table, okay?”

He nodded so you took a deep breath. “Uh…I guess the beginning would be in June 2019…the party. Sam’s party, when I found out about Eileen…I went out to the car and you followed me, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. That was the night we…” He licked his lips. “Yeah, I remember,” he repeated.

“Not for me. For me, that night ended with me wishing I could go back in time and pick you instead.” Confusion filled his face, but you just kept talking. “This demon, Anyanka, she granted my wish, sent me back to before Thanksgiving and gave me the chance to fix things…and I did. I-I picked _you_ off’a the site instead of Sam and I got help for my PTSS and I kept Adam from ever touching the smack and you fell in love with me and everything was amazing and we were happy for years, but then Sam–this Sam–he made a wish too and he brought me out of the other timeline and he-”

A pounding on the door made you jump and gasp. “ _Dean_!” Sam’s voice filtered through the thick wood of the door. “ _I know you’re home!_ ”

Dean stood and pulled you up from the sofa by your hand. “I’ll get rid of him,” Dean whispered. “Go hide in the closet in the office. Go!” You nodded and rushed for the office, sliding the closet door open and hiding in among Dean’s sports gear and sliding the door closed again. “What do you want, Sam?” You could hear Dean snap.

“Are you alone?”

“Did you see Jo’s truck in the lot?” Dean responded shortly.

“Take the chain off the door. I gotta talk to you.”

“I thought I made myself clear. I want nothin’ to do with you.”

“Dean, I _need_ to talk to you.”

“Oh, that totally changes it then, doesn’t it? Let me let you into my apartment so that you can ruin something else.” Dean’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Or, alternatively, you can go fuck yourself because I don’t wanna talk to your giant, junkie ass.”

“Let me in. Now.”

“Go away. Now.” You jolted as you heard the sound of wood splitting. “The hell, Sam?!”

“I know she’s in here, Dean. She’s got nowhere else to fuckin’ go!” Sam growled, his voice closer and obviously inside the apartment.

“Who?” Dean demanded.

“Y/n! She’s gotta be here!”

“Are you mixin’ mescaline with your heroin these days? She’s _dead_ , Sam! You drove ‘er to kill herself!” he shouted.

“She’s-”

“Dead! You broke her and she killed herself and that’s on you! You wanna come in here all hopped up on whatever the fuck you’re fucked up on and trash my place lookin’ for a ghost?” There was a moment of silence. “It’s too late to feel guilty. You killed her and you killed my kids.”

“You sent her away. You sent her back to me. Ya know, I remember the day she showed up at my door, crying, begging me to take her back, to forgive her for fucking you in the first place, for getting pregnant with those twins you didn’t want.”

“Didn’t want? I loved those kids and I loved Y/n, but I stupidly loved you more…let that ruin every part and parcel of my fuckin’ life…and you come in here with-”

“You had just as much hand in her breaking as I did, Dean. Gave her hope for some rescue, acted like you were gonna be her knight in shining armor and then yanked it away, left her for the junkie that gave her PTSD.”

“Like I said ‘stupidly loved you more’…but I’m done. _Been_ done, brother. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“You see her, call me,” Sam demanded.

A few minutes later, the door slid open and Dean looked down at you. “Okay, Y/n. Sam wished you back to control you again. What do you need from me, princess?”

“You believe me?” you squeaked as he offered his hand and helped you out of the closet.

“Well…you’re dead,” Dean said matter-of-factly, running his hands down your arms to take your hands. “And Sam just showed up lookin’ for you so…I’m on board for anything you need, Y/n, but we’re not gonna be able to stay here. Sam’ll be back.”

You nodded. “Okay. Where can we go?”

“We can’t take the Impala ‘cause she draws attention. I’m gonna call Jo to pick us up. If you go down the fire escape, we’ll pick you up in the alley, okay?” he said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

“What are you gonna tell her?” you asked, grabbing his wrist. “I’m dead.”

“She met you once, she barely remembers you. I took down all the pictures when I started dating her and she doesn’t go in my office, so she’s not gonna recognize you. I’ll tell her you’re a client in a bad situation and we’ll have her drive you to…who’s closer, your parents or Carol and Ted?”

“Um…right, my parents are still in Joliet,” you whispered, trying to remember the progression of this timeline. “This is 2020…so Carol moved to Cicero when Ted left her for his receptionist. She’s closest.”

“You got an address?” he asked.

“Not exactly, but I know her townhouse is the fourth one on Sycamore Drive. I’ll know it when I see it. I visited her all the time in the other timeline.” Dean looked completely taken aback by that. “We made up, became good friends…because of _you_ , actually.”

“Well, damn. You’re gonna have to fill me in on that other timeline.”

You smiled softly. “I’d love to.”

“After we get you safe, okay?” he whispered, pulling his wrist out of your grasp and tapping on his phone screen. “Hey, Jo. I need a favor, sweetheart,” he said, turning away. You smiled to yourself at the use of 'sweetheart’. She was his girlfriend but she wasn’t his princess. “I got a client, a friend, needs to get out of a bad situation. My car is loud and eye-catching and I need you to come pick us up from my apartment so we can get her safe. You willing? Thank you, baby, you’re amazing. How long you think–okay, see you then.”

He disconnected the call and smiled tightly as he pushed the phone into his back pocket. “She’s fifteen minutes away. I’m gonna see if I can get her to let me drop her off and borrow her pickup. That way you can tell me all about it on the way to Carol’s place.”

“Okay.”

He licked his lips and shook his head slightly, reaching out to run his knuckles over your cheekbone. “I can’t fucking believe you’re here. Feel like I’m dreamin’.”

“The last month or so has been a nightmare for me so…seeing your face is like a dream, too.” You reached out and ran your fingers through his hair. Shorter than your husband wore his, a little less grey, but just as soft. “I’ve had your voice in my head since Sam brought me back…reminding me to be strong. Pulling me through every day of the Hell he was putting me through.”

“Part of me doesn’t even wanna know.” He looked away and sighed heavily. “Okay. Fire escape to the alley. Jo an’ I will meet you down there.”

“Okay. Thank you for this, D.”

“I didn’t save you before…I’m not gonna make the same mistake again, princess,” he said, kissing your cheek before walking off toward his bedroom.

You nodded and moved to the office window, opening it and climbing out onto the fire escape.


	6. Hiding

**Summary:** Dean takes Y/n to Carol’s place.  
 **Story Warnings:** bad things. so bad. bad bad bad…mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS…bad things and I’m so sorry, mentions of **noncon** ,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were shaking as you waited in the alley. Every noise made you flinch. Your anxiety was as high as you could ever remember it being and even the thought that Dean was right upstairs in his apartment didn’t help you much. When the pickup truck came down the alley, you were too scared to come out from behind the dumpster until the passenger door opened and Dean called out, “Go time, honey!”. You sighed in relief and rushed to the truck.

Jo was behind the wheel, wearing a simple tank top and tight blue jeans. “Jo, this is Jeanne Gang, she’s one of my favorite clients.”

You blinked and looked over at Dean as Jo smiled and offered her hand. Jeanne Gang. You couldn’t remember ever mentioning Jeanne Gang to Dean…not _this_ Dean, anyway. How the hell does he know about her? She’s only famous in architecture circles.

You took Jo’s hand and shook it. “Thank you for this. I literally owe you my life.”

“It’s no problem, hon. I’ve gotten into some pretty bad situations, myself.”

“Yeah, um, Jo is gonna drive to her place and then I’m gonna borrow her truck, get you safe,” Dean said as she drove out of the alleyway. “Fewer people know where you’re goin’ the better.”

Dean’s knee knocked into yours and stayed connected to you, like he was grounding himself, making sure you were really there. Jo drove to her apartment building and parallel parked in front. She turned to Dean and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Be safe, baby.”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks for this, sweetheart,” he whispered as she slid out of the truck and he moved to the driver’s seat. She waved as she walked into the building and Dean nodded at her before pulling off toward the highway.

“She’s really nice,” you said.

“She’s not you,” he said quietly. He swallowed and bit his bottom lip. “So…um…tell me about that other world Sam stole you from.”

You smiled. “Broad strokes? I picked you off of the website and made you fall in love with me. I knew you so well by then, it was easy. I..” You took a deep breath and sighed it out. “I got help for my Post Traumatic Stress…pills and support group meetings for victims. I…saved Adam from Ruby, used the foreknowledge I had to keep him from ever shooting up. He went to college, by the way. Med school at U of C.”

“Really? Adam’s a doctor?” he asked, proudly.

“Yeah. The whole family was so proud when he got in and we…were just celebrating his graduation when I got yanked.” You moved closer to him on the bench seat. “Ruby stabbed me. When I went to her place to rescue Adam, Ruby stabbed me. I was in a coma for a few weeks, but it wasn’t a big deal. A little while after I got out of the hospital, you and I ran off to Vegas with Cas and Charlie.”

“Got married by Elvis?” he guessed, smiling.

“Damn straight. Our wedding cake was pie…and our toast was an aged bourbon. It was so perfectly us.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“It was. Of course, our families demanded we have a ‘real’ wedding and so we renewed our vows a month later at Maw-maw’s house and told everyone at the reception that we were pregnant.”

“Yeah?” he whispered, barely a word.

“Yeah. Twins. Marty and Melody. They’re wonderful. Marty is so much like you, such a goof.“

"Marty and Melody. Sounds…wrong but right at the same time.”

“I understand.” Mary and Henry sounded just the same to you.

“What about Sam, huh?” Dean asked, reaching out to rest his hand on your thigh. “How’d he turn out in your timeline?”

“He turned out…amazing. He went to work for the Public Defenders office, met a paralegal named Madison. We were helping him pick out a ring.”

“Sober?”

You nodded. “A decade. One of his proudest accomplishments.”

There was silence in the truck for a minute before he said, “And _my_ Sam? What’d he…what’d he do?”

You looked down and away. “He wanted me to replace the family he lost when the other me drove off the bridge.” Dean’s hand tightened on your thigh as you continued. “He kept me tied up for a few days. He kept the apartment on lockdown all month, though. He didn’t win, though. I taught myself to pick locks…and I know he didn’t get what he wanted because I had my period.”

“He raped you again. I can’t _believe_ he raped you again,” Dean growled.

“Really? ‘Cause _I_ can.” You took a deep breath and licked your lips. “This Sam is like…all the fears I had about him. All the _nightmares_ I had about him. All the things my PTSS told me were possible for him…he’s all that and worse. I can’t…I had to act like I liked it, like he had broken me and I…I just wanna go home.”

Dean nodded. “We’ll figure out a way to get you home, princess.”

“How?!” you squeaked. “I don’t even know how he got me here! He just said someone…some all-powerful man that knew what I wished for and what my timeline was like pulled me out and sent us back in time! He didn’t tell me who or how or any of that! He refused! He didn’t want me to unwish it.”

“Calm down, baby, we’ll fix it. We’ll figure out how to fix it, I promise.”

You nodded, battling the fear and anger. Dean was going to help you get home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood to the side with the hood of your sweater over your head as Dean walked up to the door of your sister’s townhouse. It took a few minutes, but eventually the door creaked open. “Winchester. What are _you_ doing here?” Carol spat out. Dean rolled his eyes and turned to look at you as you stepped out of your hiding spot. Your sister’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “Y/n? How are-”

“I’m kinda exposed out here. Can we come in?” you asked, not waiting for her to respond before you grabbed Dean’s hand and pushed past her into her living room.

“You’re dead! Aren’t you? We went to your funeral, we-” Carol shut the door behind you and you pulled your hood off.

“I faked it. I faked my death to get away from Sam. Can I borrow your computer, please?” you responded, shortly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Carol exclaimed, getting closer to you and poking your chest. “You get in with _this_ piece of shit and his family, you end up pregnant and have some shotgun wedding, marry that abusive junkie asshole and fake your own death and that’s the first thing you wanna say to your sister? You want to borrow my fucking computer?”

Your right fist zipped out and slammed into her jaw. You couldn’t handle her being in your face, being loud, being accusatory, being _Carol_. “I have no time for this bullshit, Carol. I know that deep down this maliciousness is coming from a place of love because I’ve seen the woman you can be when you let go of all of this shit, but I don’t have _time_ to get through to Good Carol. I have been hurt and raped and treated like a fucking baby-factory by that junkie asshole and I can’t stay around in this darkness for the rest of my life when I know what _light_ feels like. So shut the fuck up, Carol, and get your fucking laptop.”

Carol gasped and took a step back from you, her hand over the red mark on her chin. “He raped you?” she asked, barely louder than a whisper.

“So many times I lost count,” you answered as Dean looked away from you, rage in the way he was standing. “And a lot more…all very horrible things…because he’s lost his mind.” You took a deep breath and straightened your posture. “I need to find a way to get away from this monster…permanently. So I need your laptop.”

“But…why didn’t you use _his_?” she asked, looking at Dean.

“Because the monster broke into my apartment looking for her and we couldn’t trust he’d respect my privacy long enough for us to find what we need and he’s never gonna look for her here when he knows you hate her.”

“I don’t-” Carol scoffed indignantly. “I don’t hate my sister. I love her!”

“Then go get your damn laptop,” Dean prompted.

She sighed heavily and stomped toward her bedroom. Only after she was out of the room did you examine your knuckles. Dean walked over and took your hand, pressing lightly on your knuckles. “You didn’t break anything. Where’d you learn to punch like that?”

You rubbed at the back of your neck and looked at the rug under your sister’s coffee table. “Marty got really interested in martial arts a couple years ago, so we started taking a family tai kwon do class. Melody hated it…we had to start doing a weekly gymnastics class to make up for it. _I_ hated that one.”

Dean smiled, softly. “Damn. I can just imagine you tumbling around on those blue mats.”

“Yeah, imagine this body, but ten years older and about twenty pounds fatter…tumbling on those mats.”

“I can imagine it,” he whispered, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Here,” Carol said, handing you the laptop.

“Thank you,” you said, sitting on the couch and opening the laptop. “I’m sorry I punched you.”

She didn’t respond, just crossing her arms over her chest while you pulled up the browser and searched for Anyanka. It was eerie how the page looked exactly the way it looked in the other timeline and the summoning spell was still at the bottom. “Where are you gonna get all that?” Dean asked.

“Well, I’d feel more comfortable staying here, but I know that you can get all this stuff at the New Age store on Bachman Drive.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Lemme write down that list.” He typed the list into his phone and pocketed it. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, okay?” You nodded as you set the laptop aside. “No more punching, huh?”

You nodded and he smiled as he walked out of the house. You looked up at your older sister, who was staring at you. “What?” you asked.

“You just…you’ve never hit me before. Even when I used to rag on you all the time, you never hit back.”

You sighed. “I didn’t mean to lash out. I’ve got Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and it…it ramps up my fight or flight and I guess…I guess I’m in Fight mode these days.”

“You look…” Carol sat on the couch next to you and gestured at you. “You look okay.” You could tell that she was trying to segue into your trauma but didn’t know how to approach it.

“Do you wanna talk about it, Carol? Do you really wanna know?” you asked, giving her an out.

She licked her lips and nodded, leaning forward. “Yeah. I want to know.”

“Okay. Sit back. It starts before Thanksgiving.”


	7. Out of Luck

**Summary** : Y/n explains as much as she can to her sister and then sends her away so she can summon a demon.

**Story Warnings** : bad things. so bad. bad bad bad...mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS...bad things and I'm so sorry, mentions of noncon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He'd be different. If Adam hadn't overdosed, Sam would be different, but Adam died...and Sam never got past it."

Carol blinked at you a few times before she shook herself out of it. "I'm sorry. I'm still back on the part where you married a gigolo." She licked her lips. "You hired a prostitute to lie to us over Thanksgiving and then you started dating him?"

"He was a better man back then, Carol. He was sweet and…" You shook your head. "If Adam hadn't overdosed, Sam wouldn't have relapsed...and he wouldn't have raped me that first time."

"And you stayed with him after he raped you?" she asked, quietly. Obviously she couldn’t wrap her head around that.

"I loved him." You sighed and shook your head again. “But I couldn’t really...see past what he did. I tried...but knowing there was this darkness in him...even though I knew that there was so much light on top of it, I couldn’t see past the darkness and I couldn’t touch him. We could barely kiss.”

“Then, how’d you end up with Mary and Henry?” she asked.

“They weren’t Sam’s.” Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes went wide. “Sam cheated on me with one of Adam’s nurses and so I...stopped fighting my feelings for Dean and ended up pregnant. When Dean told me that he couldn’t be with me because Sam was going to kill himself if Dean and I were a couple, I went back to Sam. I didn’t want to be alone, I guess. Then we got married and Sam isolated me from everyone, ran off Charlie, I was alone and miserable. He controlled every aspect of my life.”

“So, you faked your death?”

“So, I tried to kill myself and the twins,” you disputed, before heading into the lie. “I washed up on the bank of the river, barely clinging to life. I didn’t want to be alive, but I was...and Sam thought I was dead. Told everybody I was. But I used a credit card and he found me hiding out in this nasty motel. Everyone thought I was dead, so he...locked me up in the apartment. Actual padlocks. Tied me down…” You took a deep breath to hold back the urge to gag at the memory of Sam raping you. “He wanted new babies. _His_ babies. I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

Carol’s lip trembled as she looked in your eyes and she almost seemed to melt into the sister you remembered from your timeline. “But you got away? How?”

You blinked a bit at the tears trying to escape the confines of your eyes. “A mix of subterfuge and skill.” You scratched at your scalp and cleared your throat. “I made him think he’d broken me, that I was willing to do anything to keep him happy, and he started giving me more slack. He’s doing the heroin again so when he would nod off after the high, I started trying to pick the padlocks on the doors. It took me a while, but eventually I got out.”

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “You’re so brave! I don’t know if I could do that. I almost broke when Ted cheated on me, I can’t imagine going through...and coming out the other side...even standing.”

“I’m not brave. I just did what I had to do.”

“You had all this horrible stuff happen and you’re acting like it’s nothing,” Carol said, obviously confused.

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head. “It’s _not_ nothing, but I can’t afford to dwell. I have to keep going or I’m never gonna get through this Hell.”

She chuckled and looked away. “It’s just like you to misquote Churchill in a situation like this.”

You shrugged. “It’s not quite World War II but it’s my own battle...to get through, and get safe.”

Dean walked in without knocking and set an opaque white bag on the coffee table. “All right. So, how do we do this?” he asked, turning to look at you.

You sighed and stood, looking at Carol. “You should go. I don’t know how this is gonna come out. I’d rather you be safe. Go see a movie.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I might be able to-” she started but you shook your head and she sighed. “Okay. Be safe, Y/n.” She wrapped you in a slightly-awkward hug and grabbed her purse before walking out the front door.

“You ready for this?” you asked, starting to pull bags of herbs and candles out of the white plastic bag.

“Yeah, princess. Let’s summon a demon.”

It took a half an hour to set up the spell and two minutes to perform it. Anyanka looked exactly the same when she appeared in the middle of Carol’s living room. She sighed heavily. “You two? Again?” she snapped, before looking closer at Dean. “Wait. You’re not the same one that summoned me last time.” She turned her eyes on you. “Why are you here? I sent you back to the better timeline.”

“I know. I got pulled out of the better timeline somehow.”

“What do you mean, ‘somehow’? How do you not know how you-”

“Sam wished me back!” you exclaimed. “This timeline’s Sam wished me back. He wouldn’t tell me how he wished me back, just that he did. ‘Cause I’m dead in this timeline, so he couldn’t have _this_ me back so he pulled me out of the good timeline and I just wanna go back. Please.”

Anya’s head tilted as she examined you. “He couldn’t wish you back from the dead?” she asked, walking closer.

“What does _that_ mean?” Dean asked.

"It means you're out of luck. I couldn't fix this if I tried," she answered.

Fear and anguish clenched at your insides. "But why?"

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Look, I’m not the only wish-granter in the universe, honey. And there are rules, okay, that prevent us from overlapping and screwing each other over. If this were a demon, I’d be able to reason with them, but your Sam didn’t go to a demon. He went to a djinn.”

“A djinn?” Dean asked.

“A genie?” you squeaked.

“Yes, a genie, you simpleton!” Anya snapped. “Genies take their rules incredibly seriously, especially the one about resurrection, and they are the most territorial wish-granters ever. There’s no way to get you out of this...not while the wisher still has another wish left.”

“So, you can’t help us until Sam uses his last wish?” Dean asked.

“No. I can’t do _anything_ while he’s still in control of the situation.” She sighed heavily and bit her lip, looking up at the ceiling. “But _he_ might be able to.”

“The genie?” you and Dean asked.

“ _Yes_ , the genie! If there is anyone, anyone in the universe that can help you here, it’s the one who brought you here.”

“And...where do you think we would _find_ this djinn?” you asked, your stomach in tight knots.

“Brooklyn, New York. This is a good place to start,” Anya said, offering you a piece of paper with an address scrawled across it. “It’s a little hookah place in the city. He frequents it when he’s stateside. I can’t guarantee he _is_ stateside, but if Sam still has a wish, I’m willing to put down money that he’s not in Turkey.”

You took the paper and looked down at it. “Thank you, Anya.”

“I worked hard on your wish, Y/n. I’m pissed that someone came in and ruined it. So, find the damn djinn and fix this shit.”

You nodded. “No one wants that more than I do.”

“If you need me again, just call. My cell phone’s on there too. No more of this summon stuff,” she said before disappearing.

You looked from the paper to Dean and swallowed thickly. “You don’t have to come with me.”

His eyebrows shot up and he shook his head. “I just helped you summon a demon, princess.” He stepped up in front of you and slipped his hand into your hair, tipping your head back to look into his eyes. “I’m not lettin’ you go without me, Y/n.”

Getting sucked in by those sparkling emerald eyes was unavoidable and you felt an urge to kiss him. You had to force your eyes away from his. “H-how are we going to get to New York?”

Dean released you and stepped back. “I’ll call Jo, let ‘er know I’m gonna need to borrow the truck for a couple days. We’ll road trip it.”

“Okay. I’ll leave a note for Carol.”

Dean pulled his phone out and dialed a number from memory. “Hey, Jo. No, not quite. We actually gotta Underground Railroad her to New York to get this shit under control. Can I use the--thank you, baby. You’re awesome. Yeah. I’ll call you when we get there. Bye.” He gave a tight smile as he hung up and put the phone back into his pocket. “We’re clear. You ready?”

“Yeah. I let Carol know that everything was good and we were safe. Should be fine. Let’s go.”

You and Dean loaded into the pickup truck and pulled up the directions to the hookah bar on his phone. He licked his bottom lip and looked over at you for a moment before he turned away and pulled out of the driveway.


	8. Road Trip

**Summary:** Y/n and Dean head to New York City.

**Story Warnings:** mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS...bad things and I'm so sorry, mentions of **noncon** , **18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** cheating, unprotected sex

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Road trips were usually a few hours for you. A trip to the nearest theme park for a day of fun with the kids, a trip to visit Carol on the weekend, maybe a bit longer for a work conference. The trip to Brooklyn was going to take fifteen hours, according to GoogleMaps. Fifteen hours, not accounting stops, with Dean in close quarters. You both were and weren’t looking forward to it.

Dean stopped at a gas station on the way out of the city and loaded up on snacks and drinks before heading for the interstate. There was silence in the truck for a while until Dean reached out to turn on the radio. You smiled as a familiar country song came on and you reached out to stop him from changing the station. “Leave it, please. Old Dominion is kinda ‘our band’, ya know?”

His eyebrow went up. “Country? Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Um...when we were driving to Maw-maw’s for Thanksgiving, an Old Dominion song came on the radio...I think it was ‘Written in the Sand’...and you tried to get me to change it, but I wouldn’t. I told you they were amazing and I loved them...so you looked ‘em up and found you liked ‘em, and asked me to be your girlfriend by doing karaoke of their song ‘Snapback’. It’s still one of the most romantic moments of our relationship.” Tears popped up in your eyes as you thought about your Dean, your husband, your family, your world. “That, and getting on a plane to marry me in Vegas.”

“Hey. No tears.” He reached over and turned the volume up. You tried to control your emotions as 'One Man Band' filled the cab of the truck. “Well, it ain’t horrible, I guess.” He looked over at you and licked his bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s so weird you have all these other memories. You got this whole other life in your head. I wanna hear all about it. Like...tell me about our first time.” Your cheeks heated up and you looked down at your lap. “An’ I’m not talkin’ about after the party, I mean-”

“That didn’t _happen_ for me. I don’t have any memories of anything after that wish,” you reminded him.

“Okay. Well, why don’t you tell me about our first time in the Happy Universe and then I’ll tell you about our...our _only_ time in this one?” he suggested.

You took a deep breath and nodded, twiddling your thumbs as you thought back to the night he took you to Maillard’s. “Our first date was a business thing. Get the paperwork outta the way, get our stories straight. I bought you pie and I praised your car...hit the right buttons at the right times and...you couldn’t get me outta your head, so you invited me to dinner at a restaurant called Maillard. We had a wonderful evening, good conversation, good food, good beer and then we left the restaurant and we got in the Impala and we were in this dark parking lot with no one around and...I wasn’t going to have sex with you. I was sure that if I had sex with you before you fell in love with me, I was never going to be anything but a client to you...but then you kissed me.”

Your body heated up at the memory you were calling forth and you couldn’t help noticing the way Dean’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You pulled me into your lap and pushed my shirt up so you could get at my boobs and...then you dropped the seat back and started...started fingering me and then, um...I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted you so badly that I couldn’t think about my ridiculous plan to hold back until you were in love. So, I got a condom out of your glove box and I rode your dick right there in the front seat of your car. It was the best sex I’d ever had.”

You shifted in your seat to try to dissipate some of the arousal in your core. After everything with Sam, you didn’t really feel like arousal was a good thing.

“But obviously your plan worked anyway. I fell for you...married you.”

“Yeah. I guess I was really good at pushing the right buttons.”

“Or maybe you were just supposed to be with me, either way. Maybe the plan didn’t matter because the endgame was _always_ you and me...no matter what dumbass shit I pulled, or Sam pulled.” He reached out and grabbed your hand. “When does the night of the party go blank for you?”

“Like I said, right after I made the wish. I found out Sam was cheating, I tried to leave without causing a scene, but his obsessive need to control everything made him follow me, made me make a scene, and then I went out to my car and I cried and you came out and you told me that anyone would be lucky to have me...even though I’m fat and broken. You said that you...you wanted me and that the only reason you weren’t kissing me was because you didn’t want to capitalize on my pain. Then I made the wish and...that’s it.”

“Not for me, it’s not.” He sighed softly and looked over at you, squeezing your hand. “See, after that, I kissed you anyway. I wiped your tears off’a your cheeks and I kissed you...and when I pulled away...when I realized that it was a bad idea and that you’d been right to reject me on Friday and you were vulnerable and it was a bad idea...when I pulled away, you said, ‘Dean, I need you.’ and how was I supposed to say ‘no’ to that?” He swept his thumb across the back of your hand and kept his eyes on the road as he continued. "My place was closer, so you drove us over there. You were...clingin’ to me, I could barely get the door open. You pulled my shirt off as soon as we were inside, but you-you stopped me when I went trying to take your clothes off. You didn’t want me to see you, but I...I needed to show you that what he did...It didn’t matter. All the damage he did, we could work it out. We could fix it.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I took you to the bedroom, got you out of your clothes, kissed you all over your body. I made you cum on my fingers, just watching your face...mesmerized as you orgasmed...and then...I thought about a condom, but you were special. You _are_ special...so I went without. For the first time since Cassie, I went without a condom. It was all about...letting you feel what you need to feel and working through it with you. Fallin’ asleep with you was the...it was this small, amazing thing...but then, I woke up.”

“And you regretted it,” you whispered.

“Only because I knew that I was always gonna choose Sam,” he whispered. “I was so stupid. I couldn’t see...I kept makin’ excuses for him. I tried that ‘Honesty in the Aftermath’ shit but it never really went past his rehab. It never really applied to how he...how he treated you. I made it easy for him to hurt you. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” You slid closer to him, desire to comfort him overwhelming you. “It’s not your fault. It’s Sam’s fault. It’s all on Sam.”

“Not all of it. I let him push me away from you, isolate you...we all did, honestly. You already didn’t have a good relationship with your family but I should’ve pushed back when Charlie left. You needed someone on your side. You needed someone to talk to, someone to help and-”

“Why did Charlie leave?” you asked.

“She got headhunted by a tech firm in New York. She was already barely talkin’ to you because she couldn’t stand the person Sam was makin’ you into, so she took the job.” He dropped your hand and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “She flew back out here for the funeral.” You gasped and looked up at him. “What?”

“I guess I just never considered the fact that I _had_ a funeral...me and the twins.”

“Oh. Yeah, you did. It was...one of the worst days of my life. I don’t think I’ve cried so much in years.”

“You cried?” Dean wasn’t much of a crier beyond a couple of non-dramatic tears.

“I sobbed. Like a bitch.” His fingers started tracing patterns on your arm. “Pretty much from the moment I heard you were gone to the moment I passed out drunk the night of your funeral, I was just a red-eyed, snot-covered mess.” You fell into silence, the sound of the radio filling it. “And then I tried to move on. I stopped talkin’ to Sam because I couldn’t look at him without wishin’ he was the one who died...wantin’ to kill him in retaliation. I went through my apartment and took down every reminder of you and every reminder of Sam. I tossed the Sam reminders into the garbage, pinned all of the reminders of you up in my office...all the ones I could, anyway. But I couldn’t pin my car up in the office. Every time I drive her I think about the way I taught you about engines.”

“I impressed the hell outta you with that knowledge in the good timeline. As soon as I said ‘Mighty Mouse Engine’ I’m pretty sure your fate was sealed.”

He chuckled. “Oh, yeah, that must’ve blown my damn mind.” He wrapped his fingers around your upper arm and hummed happily. “So. You picked up on my interests and I picked up on yours. The amount of nerdy shit I watched because I remembered you talkin’ about ‘em... _Firefly_ , _Battlestar_ , _Xena_ , _Farscape_ , the Harry Potter flicks... and then, that wasn’t enough anymore so I started researching architecture, went to some of the buildings you designed. That cabin on Fox Lake? Almost bought that.”

“That’s how you knew about Jeane Gang. I was wondering about that.”

“Yeah, she was kinda cool. I met her at a book signing. She remembered you from a conference. Said you showed exceptional promise and she was sad to hear you passed."

“I can’t believe she remembered me. We had one conversation fourte-- _four_ years ago. I can’t believe she remembers it.”

As you leaned your head against his shoulder and breathed in the smell of his spicy deodorant, the two of you fell into a conversation about easier things...Wash dying on _Serenity_ , the fact that Alan Tudyk went to Julliard for acting and ended up voicing King Candy in Wreck-it Ralph and a chicken in Moana, how Marty’s favorite Star Wars movie was Rogue One and Tudyk was K-2SO in that so that’s the Tudyk movie you’d seen the most...then came an in-depth discussion of the Star Wars movies.

“What do you mean, ‘Flash Gordon fanfiction’?” Dean asked, incredulously.

You smiled. Your Dean had the same reaction when you had this conversation. “Lucas was trying to do a Flash Gordon movie but he couldn’t get the rights so he changed some shit around and Star Wars was born.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t even--are you saying this just to piss me off?”

“Char said the same thing the first time I told her this trivia, too...and so did you when I told you in the other timeline. I’m not making it up but it doesn’t change the fact that the movies are amazing, the franchise as a whole is awesome. I love it, always.”

“Yeah, I know. All those Funko Pops on the shelves in the living room weren’t all Charlie’s.” As you went back to a silence, you closed your eyes and snuggled closer to him. You felt comfortable, safe...something close to happy again. It was almost like everything was going to be okay. The sky went dark as rain clouds came in and the sky let loose with huge raindrops. “I’m gonna stop at this rest area, okay, princess? I’m not comfortable driving in this and we need a few hours to grab some shut-eye,” he said, pointing at the sign to the right of the road that said ‘Rest Area 2 Miles’.

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense. We’ve both been up for far too long.”

“When’s the last time-”

You looked at the clock on the radio and rubbed your eyes. "Not that I was sleeping real well in Sam's bed, but...it has been more than thirty hours since I woke up. Sleep's a good idea."

"Right, so…" he started, pulling off of the interstate and parking at the deserted rest stop. "You wanna just...try to pass out sitting up against the windows or…"

"Can you hold me?" You weren't sure exactly where the words came from but once they were out, you couldn't take them back. "Like when we fell asleep together in the back of the Impala."

"The night we got drunk," he said wistfully, like it was a fond memory. "Yeah. We can...we can do that."

You ended up curled up against him, head resting on one of his arms while the other held you to him. You felt almost like you were doing something wrong, a small bit of guilt wriggling its way into your brain as you considered that the man behind you, warming your back with his body heat and breathing into your hair, both was and wasn't your husband.

“Schrodinger’s husband,” you whispered to yourself. 

“What?” he asked in that sleepy, barely-cognizant way. 

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Let’s just get some rest.”

He sighed into your hair and his arm tightened across your body. “Am I a good husband?” he asked, quietly. “Like, do I remember birthdays and anniversaries? Do I listen when you bitch about your job? Do we...do you still love me after ten years together?” He sounded so vulnerable that you had to sit up and look down at him. He looked up at you with watery green eyes. “Are we the Bundys or...are we…” He shook his head. “I can’t think of a happy married couple on a sitcom, but…”

You smiled. “I can. The Dunphys on _Modern Family_. Uncle Phil and Aunt Viv on _Fresh Prince_.” You reached out and ran your hand down his cheek. “But you and me...we’re like Gomez and Morticia Addams. We are so completely in love and we don’t care who sees.”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Oh, and we got a boy and a girl kid, too. That’s a family Halloween costume at the ready.” He covered your hand with his and smiled. “It’s kinda crazy that you never got tired of me.”

“Dean.” You flipped over to look at him more easily. “Of course I never got tired of you. You’re my hero.”

He shook his head. “Maybe _he_ is, but I’m not. I didn’t save you from Sam. I could’ve and I didn’t.”

You could see a sadness in his eyes that you didn’t know how to deal with. He was radiating a feeling of worthlessness and you weren’t sure how to fix it. “I was already too far gone. He’d already broken me so much and you were the only one even beginning to hold me together. You’re a hero to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.” He shook his head and looked away, but you couldn’t let him keep feeling that way. Not when you felt like crap.

You leaned down and pressed your lips to his. It was messy and halfway off-target, but he immediately shifted to get the kiss lined up, slipping his hand to the back of your neck and sitting up slightly to get closer to you. You deepened the kiss, pushing your tongue in his mouth and caressing his. He moaned, his free hand groping at your back.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, and looked into your eyes. “This is a bad-”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered.

“No, I mean...after what Sam-”

“Don’t say _that_. I need to... _you_ need to.” You pressed another kiss to his lips. “We need to heal,” you whispered.

His lips twitched as he processed your words. “Are you sure?” he asked, eventually. You nodded and he leaned up to kiss you again, wrapping his arms around you and rolling you under him, holding you like his life depended on it, burying his face in your cleavage and grinding his slowly-hardening cock into your core. You lamented the fact that you were in jeans, missing the easy access of a dress or skirt as you fumbled to get your button undone.

You told yourself it’s not cheating. It’s not cheating because he’s Dean. It’s not cheating because he’s your husband...even if he’s not your version of your husband. You needed to be connected to him. You needed to be close. It’s not cheating because he’s Dean. 

He helped you get your pants off and rubbed his thumb across your clit through your panties, kissing you passionately as rain pelted the windshield. You grabbed at his shoulders, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and rolling your hips against his thumb. “Fuck. Need you, Dean.”

“I gotchu, princess,” he promised, pulling the fabric to the side and slipping a finger into you. You threw your head back, knocking it into the door, but you didn’t care. You were too focused on Dean expertly finding the places within you that only he had _ever_ cared to look for. You could hear the sound of his belt jangling as he added a second finger, twisting both up into your g-spot and making you gasp. “Gonna make you feel good, Y/n.”

Your mind flashed to Sam promising to make you feel amazing. “Don’t. Don’t talk,” you whispered, breathing heavily. You needed to not think about Sam. He nodded and pressed his thumb into your clit, making you cry out. He kissed you when he pulled away his hand, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. He kissed you softly as he pushed his cock into your pussy. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and raised your hips to help get him inside of you. It felt right, like home. The feel of his girth stretching you open, smell of him in your nose, the taste of his lips on yours. 

You held onto him like you were holding on to the memory of the man you left behind. He held onto you like he was holding on to a ghost.

You moved in tandem, bodies close, breathing together, moaning together, eyes in constant contact. It took what felt like forever and a single minute to get you close to orgasm, but you didn’t notice the time. It wasn’t important. What was important was the way his lips crashed into yours and he groaned as his cock twitched inside of you and he raised up enough to slip his hand between your bodies and rub at your clit. He groaned again as you clenched around him, muscles going rigid as you came around his cock.

You ran your hand through his hair, loving the way the sweaty locks were sticking to his forehead. “Thank you,” you said, letting your hand drop to his shoulder.

“Thank _you_ ,” he whispered, before pressing his lips to yours. He pulled out and hunched over as best he could to fix his clothes. “Feel kinda bad about doin’ this in Jo’s truck.”

You flipped over and grabbed your jeans, ignoring the cum leaking out of you onto your panties. “Yeah...she’s…”

“I don’t love her. She knows I can’t. We just…” He shrugged as he dropped back down to the seat. “She was helpin’ put me back together. Tryin’ to anyway, but she couldn’t.” He shook his head as you pulled your pants on. “We’ve known each other half our lives. It just...she was the easiest place to land.”

“After I crashed off the bridge?”

“After I let Sam _drive_ you off that bridge, Y/n,” Dean responded as the two of you laid back down and spooned again.

“You didn’t _let_ Sam do anything. I’m the one who went back to him. I’m the one who should’ve run as soon as I realized I was pregnant. I could’ve gone to New York with Charlie. I’m sure she offered,” you said, grabbing his arm and hugging it to your chest. “Get some sleep, D. We got a couple more states to get through when the rain lets up.”

He held you harder to him and pressed a kiss to your hair. "Night, princess."


	9. Granted

**Summary** : Y/n and Dean find a friend in the Big Apple.

**Story Warnings** : mentions of suicide and infanticide, depression, PTSS…bad things and I’m so sorry, mentions of noncon,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You smiled as Dean drove across the Hudson into New York. You were there. New York City. The end of the line, hopefully. Now all you had to do was find the djinn and pray he was amenable to helping you out of your situation.

The hookah bar was closed when you found it. The hours listed on the wall by the door said 4-12. "Okay. So...8 am now...what to do for eight hours in New York City?" Dean asked.

"Do you know where Charlie lives?" you asked, looking up into his eyes. "I really miss her and I wanna see her and…"

“I’ve got her address in my phone,” he said, digging his cell out of his pocket. “We sent each other Funko Pops on your birthday and Christmas.”

“I didn’t see any Funko Pops in your apartment.”

“They’re in my closet...still in the box. She sent me Lemmy Kilmister for Christmas...Black Widow for your birthday. I sent her the Rainbow Batman for Christmas...and Wonder Woman for your birthday.” He cleared his throat and turned his phone around to show you a Manhattan address. “Let’s go see if she’s home.”

You felt nervous about seeing Charlie, but after a month of Hell you needed to see her. You needed to hug her and alleviate any guilt she might have at your counterpart’s suicide. Dean knocked on the door as you stood to the side. It didn’t take long for the door to open. “Dean,” Charlie said, shocked. “What are you doing in New York?”

“I came to find a genie at a hookah bar and they don’t open for another seven hours...so we thought we’d come see you.”

“You came to find a what in a where and who’s ‘we’?” she asked quickly. Dean reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand in front of him. Charlie’s eyes went wide. “How?” she eventually whispered.

“It’s a long story. It involves demons, wishes, time travel, and so much angst. I’d love to tell you about it,” you answered.

She jumped at you, wrapping her arms around your neck. “You’re alive! With a fantasy story to tell me! And you’re with Dean! And you’re alive!”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around her. “Can we go inside? We just spent a day in a truck.”

“Oh! Yes, definitely. Come in. Tea?” Charlie asked, ushering you in. Dean followed, shutting the door behind him.

“Um...not really feelin’ up to tea, but...beer? Do you still drink that IPA from the Great Lakes?”

“No, it’s too expensive here. I traded down to this mass-market crap, but...it’s beer. I’ll be right back. Take a seat. I’ll be right back!” You looked around her living room. She had a hundred Funko Pops on the shelves and a few framed posters. It didn’t seem quite like a Charlie apartment, though. It wasn’t bright and colorful and pretty. There was no joy in the space. “So...tell me the story!” she said, walking in and handing beers to you and Dean.

You sat next to her on her couch and took a drink. “Um, it’s so complicated. Basically, I made a wish after Sam’s party to go back in time and pick Dean instead of Sam off the website and a demon of vengeance named Anyanka granted that wish. It created a separate timeline and…” You sighed and shook your head. “Things are so much better there, Char. I’m happy, _you’re_ happy, all of the Winchesters are alive and thriving and...I made up with Carol and things were great. Dean and I had two great kids and you were married to this beautiful woman named Kara.”

“I was?” She seemed amazed.

“Yeah. Yeah, everyone was happy. I got help for the PTSS and everything was good, but then Sam...this Sam...the Sam that...hurt me, he...found a genie...nine years in the future, he found a genie with the help of some very unscrupulous men he took up with, and he wished...he wished for me back.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a monster,” Dean answered.

“And he wanted to...replace the twins. Because he drove the me from this timeline to suicide and...those poor babies.”

Dean made an unhappy noise and stood. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna head out. There’s a burger joint down the street, I’m gonna pick us up some food and…”

“The twins are a sensitive subject for him,” Charlie said as Dean disappeared out the door.

“Yeah, well...for some reason, he rejected us, though.” You shook your head. “ _Them_. It was them, not us.”

“That’s gotta be a mindfuck.”

“The mindfuckiest,” you answered. You took a deep breath and took another drink of your beer. “Everything was so good in the other timeline, Charlie. And it was...so...jarring to be pulled backward in time and brought to this different world and...this Sam is...Charlie, this Sam is so much worse than…” Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to fight the urge to cry. When Charlie reached out to pat your arm, you broke, sobbing so hard and suddenly that you shocked yourself. She wrapped you in a hug and shushed you, telling you that everything was going to be all right. “Not if I don’t get back!”

“You’ll get back,” she promised.

“Not necessarily!” you cried, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “I’m relying on the good graces of a genie, Charlie, a creature that has legendarily _not_ had good graces! What if he tells me to go fuck myself? What if he sends me off for Sam to find me and rape me again? What if this whole event is how I break?”

“Hey, no one is breaking-”

“That’s not true!” You wiped at your eyes and shook your head. “Sam broke _your_ Y/n. She killed herself and those two beautiful babies and if he gets his hands on me again, he might break me too!”

“He broke you because I left,” Charlie exclaimed. Shame filled her eyes and she looked at your lap. “I left and Dean...Dean left and you got stuck with Sam. I told you to come with me to New York, but...you didn’t want to be a single mom. I told you I’d help you, but you didn’t want to take the kids away from all of the family.” She wiped tears from her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. "I should have made you come to New York or...or I should have stayed there, but you wouldn't have broken if you had people to help you." She sniffled and looked up at you. "And if you don't get this genie to help you, Sam is still not going to find you. I've got friends...when you, when the other you died, I made friends with a woman who runs a women's shelter, started volunteering. Sam's not taking you again."

“You...volunteer at a domestic abuse shelter?”

“If I can help others get out of the situation that...that took you, the other you, from me…” She sighed and wiped at her eyes. “Maybe it’ll help me stop feeling so guilty about it.”

“Char.” You sighed and leaned forward to hold her. “You’re the absolute best woman I’ve ever met. I love you so much. Every version of you...you’re the glue that held me together through all the things that wanted to tear me apart. If she gave in to the pressure, it’s not your fault.”

“I missed you so much,” she mumbled into your chest.

“I’m so sorry she left you, Char. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you. I love every version of you.”

A knock came to the door and you and Charlie pulled away from each other, fear running through you. “It’s me!” Dean called out.

“It’s open!” Charlie responded.

Dean opened the door and walked in with a bag. “Okay, so...burgers, fries, onion rings. Let’s eat.”

He set the food on Charlie’s table and the three of you dug in. “So...this genie?” Charlie asked with a mouthful of fries.

“Yeah, apparently Sam’s still got a wish left, which is worrisome, so we have to go ask the monster in charge if there’s a way to get me home.”

“Wow. This is...crazy.”

“Yeah, well...definitely not normal,” Dean said, taking a drink of his beer.

“So, we’re gonna hang here for a while before we go to talk to the genie and hope for the best.”

“Well, what if he can’t help?”

“Then I’m stuck here until Sam wishes his final wish...and I’m not looking forward to whatever that would be.”

The room fell to silence as you each considered what Sam might use his last wish for. Nothing good.

When it came time to leave for the hookah bar, Charlie decided she couldn’t let you and Dean go without her. “Okay, even if I weren’t ridiculously worried about you, you can’t go meet a genie and not take me! I didn’t get a Hogwarts letter, I didn’t get a visit from the Doctor, I’m not the one who made a demon deal and traveled time, so I am going to go meet this damn genie with you!”

You shrugged as you looked over at Dean. “My Charlie never got over the fact that we waited to summon Anya while she was at work. She still bitches at me about the fact that I kept her from meeting a demon.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Fine, but if things start to go south, you get-”

“I’m all about the self-preservation,” Charlie interrupted.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Charlie held your hand the whole drive back to the bar. She didn’t want to let you go. Your heart was pounding as you walked into the bar. It was mostly empty, except for a large Arabic man in the corner. You saw his whole body shift as you, Dean, and Charlie walked in. It unnerved you that he was the only one around.

“I own this place,” he seemed to answer your unease. “Come forth.”

You made Charlie drop your hand as you walked toward him. “H-hi, I’m Y/n and this-”

“I know who you are,” he said, turning his deep brown eyes on you. “Anyanka told you where to find me. I am Durul. Sit, Mrs. Winchester.” He gestured to a heavily-cushioned seat across from him. “Your companions do not mind standing?”

“No, they don’t,” you answered for them as you lowered yourself into the seat. “You know me?”

“Yes. I _am_ the one who brought you here, after all.”

“Then, you can-” you started but your throat clenched as he simply shook his head one time and reached out to pick up the pipe from the hookah. “You can’t send me back?”

“It is sometimes a great burden to be able to see _everything_. Before I can create a circumstance that sends you back to your preferred timeline, Sam must wish his final wish…” Durul sucked on the end of the pipe and blew a puff of smoke out his nose. “And after his final wish is granted, I will no longer be in a position to help you.”

You shook your head, confused. “What does that mean?”

“I did not want harm to come to you, Y/n. I tried to talk him out of his plan, but...he would not be dissuaded. He is a man of great darkness, you know this.”

“I just wanna go home.”

“You’re sayin’ there’s nothing you can do, pal? That we traveled all this way to be told ‘no’?” Dean growled, stepping up next to you and looking down at the djinn.

Durul looked up at him with ancient, tired eyes. “I am bound by the rules of my order. Until he wishes his third wish, Sam Winchester is master of my abilities. Knowing what comes next, I am confident that I can be of no use to you.”

“What comes next?” you asked in a whisper. Durul turned his gaze on you and smiled slightly. Fear filled you as the door to the bar opened and Sam stepped in.

You scrambled to your feet and Dean stepped protectively in front of you. “How did I know I’d find my wife with you?”

“She’s not your wife!” Dean shouted.

“And she’s not _your_ girlfriend. Your girlfriend is the one worrying about you back in Chicago,” Sam snapped.

“You talked to Jo?” Dean asked, corralling you behind him as Sam stepped closer.

“Yeah. She was so sweet. All I had to say was how I was concerned you bit off more than you could chew, that this girl you were taking care of was a danger to you, and she was more than willing to tell me you were on your way to New York.” He chuckled. “Now, I don’t know how you found Durul, but I am impressed that you did.”

“Sam, just turn around and leave. No one’s called the cops on you yet and-” Charlie started, but Sam ignored her.

“I’ve been thinking, you know, about that final wish. If I wish it, I lose my power over this world, this situation, but I can’t hold onto that wish forever. I might accidentally use it on something stupid. So I have to use it wisely, in a way that keeps me in power of the situation.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘situation’ but you mean ‘power over Y/n’,” Dean growled.

“You are...not wrong,” Sam responded. “But she was always supposed to be with me, Dean. You _stole_ her. You stole her with your friendship before I ever cheated on her with Eileen. You stole her heart, stole her womb, I _had_ to steal her back.”

“You piece of shit!” Charlie shouted.

“Shut up, Ginger,” Sam demanded before turning to the genie as he stood. “I wish…”

“Sam, don’t!” you yelled.

“...for all of your powers to be mine,” Sam finished.

Durul looked down at the dark-lined tattoos on his wrists as they slowly faded away. “Wish granted.”


	10. Highest Power

**Summary** : Everything goes wrong very very quickly.

 **Story Warnings** : character death, horrible things, sacrificial suicide, horrible things, I’m so sorry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes went wide as the dark tattoos on Durul’s wrists slowly formed on Sam’s wrists. Dean reached out to grab your hand as your heart pounded in your ears.

“Did he just fuckin’ Jafar himself?!” Charlie exclaimed, stepping back toward you and Dean as Sam’s eyes rolled. You could swear the whites were glowing.

“Yeah, but I don’t see a lamp to trap his ass in, do you?” Dean growled, looking toward Durul.

“No lamps, Dean,” Sam said, blinking several times to clear his vision. “No getting rid of me now.”

“The demon cannot help you, Y/n,” Durul said, quietly. “The highest of powers is your only opportunity for repairing the timelines.”

Sam radiated rage as he pointed at the former djinn. “Nothing is getting ‘repaired’,” he practically growled. Durul’s eyes went wide and his hands closed around his neck as he began to struggle to pull breath in.

“Why are you doing that?!” you screeched. “He doesn’t have powers anymore, right?!”

“He knows too much!” Dean explained, pulling you by your hand toward the door, trying to get you out while Sam was distracted with Durul.

“But he was just trying to-” you started to argue, looking back at the choking djinn.

“Run, Y/n!” Dean demanded, dodging as Sam reached out to grab you.

[[MORE]]

Charlie ran for the door, but she wasn’t fast enough to dodge Sam, whose other hand zipped out to grab her by her hair. She screamed as he yanked her back and you tried to tug your hand out of Dean’s grasp to go save her, but he kept pulling you as you screamed your best friend’s name. “Run!” she shrieked as Sam grabbed her chin and twisted her head around completely.

You felt sick to your stomach, a bubbling of rage and anguish making you sick as Dean pushed open the door and pulled you out. You followed him, tears running down your face as he pulled open the truck and drove off with you crumbling in the seat beside him. “Oh God!” you wailed, trying to rid yourself of the image of your best friend with her head on the wrong way. “Oh God, Charlie.”

You couldn’t help it as you started hyperventilating. “You need to breathe, Y/n,” Dean said, speeding off down the street.

“She-she-she-she’s–I, I-I, D-Dean, she’s…He, I…” You couldn’t finish a thought, let alone a sentence.

“I know. I know, baby, but…fuck, I don’t…What do we do now?!” he exploded and you cowered away from him, still unable to breathe properly. He was instantly apologetic. “Shit, princess, I’m sorry.” He reached over and put his hand on your knee. “Take a deep breath, Y/n. Breathe in with me, come on.”

You tried, you really did…but as soon as your lungs filled, your stomach emptied. Half-digested beer and burger covered the floorboard of Jo’s truck, splashing your legs and covering your shoes. “Oh God,” you bit out before retching again.

“It’s okay. It’s understandable. It’s okay,” Dean soothed, blindly groping to hold your hair out of the way while driving.

It wasn’t until you spent several moments dry heaving that you were able to sit up and roll down the window beside you to circulate fresh air into the cab. “Oh, fuck.”

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“No,” you whined, wiping at your mouth and eyes. “What do we do now?”

“You got the number Anyanka gave you?”

“Durul said she can’t help,” you reminded him as you pulled out your phone with shaking hands.

“Yeah, well, maybe she can help us figure out who _can_. There’s gotta be…gotta be someone, somewhere!”

“What should I say?” you asked, trying to get your body to cooperate enough to type a text message.

“Tell her to meet us in Central Park…Strawberry Fields by the Imagine mosaic.”

You added a ‘911’ to the beginning and end of the message. Anya responded to the text within two minutes, saying she was there and waiting. You felt gross walking across the stones toward the mosaic in your puke-soaked shoes but you were just happy to be walking. It was more than you could say for Durul and Charlie.

You vaguely recognized Anyanka in her human disguise with her face smooth and her clothing human, but the way she stomped up to you was all demonic attitude. “What happened?” she demanded.

“Durul is dead. Sam used his last wish to take his powers and then he killed him,” you answered.

“So Sam’s a djinn now?” Anyanka asked, a mix of irritation and fear in her tone.

“Yeah. Now, before he died, Durul said you wouldn’t be able to help us, but-” Dean started but the demon interrupted.

“He’s right. Sam’s a djinn. I can’t mess with a djinn. Even if you made a wish right now and I sent you back, Sam would bring you back here. He’s too strong now. You’re screwed.”

You let out a sob and covered your mouth as Dean pulled you into his chest. “Look, lady, this entire event has been five different kinds of traumatic so do me a fucking favor and tell me what you _can_ do. Durul said ‘only the highest power’ can help us now that Sam’s a genie. Who’s the highest power?”

Anyanka scoffed and looked away. “You’re not gonna be able to get His attention.”

“Who?” Dean demanded as you looked up.

“God,” she said like it was apparent. “You know…the Creator, Allah, Jehovah, whatever you wanna call Him. You might as well resign yourself to-”

“God. God’s real?” Dean asked.

Anyanka rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ He is, but like I said, you’re never gonna-”

“You’ve met Him?” Dean asked, eyebrows raising.

“No, but…I’ve met people who have met Him. My boss, he’s met God, and let me tell you how _unimpressed_ D'hoffryn was after that meeting.”

“Could your boss get us in to see God?” you asked, completely baffled at the words coming out of your mouth.

“Look, it’s not that easy! I don’t even know how D'hoffryn did it! It’s not like I’m-”

“Call him. Find out. It’s a damn emergency, Anya!” Dean exclaimed.

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. “Men,” she grumbled. She turned away and put the phone to her ear, speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue that didn’t seem human. She sighed as she turned back around. “He thought I was joking…and then he thought I’d lost my mind…but he told me to tell you…God is fickle. You’re going to have to bleed for Him.”

“How much?” Dean asked. You looked up at him. Not 'why’, or 'how’, but 'how much’. How much blood does God need to fix this?

“About a gallon.”

You shook your head. “That’s too much! That’s all of-”

“In a bowl or what?” Dean asked, stepping closer to Anyanka.

The demon smiled as she presented him with a large basin. “Right here. Fill it up with your essence and she’ll be able to call God. Are you willing to-”

“Yes,” Dean said, grabbing the bowl from her arms.

“Wait!” you exclaimed. “We can’t do this! You can’t-”

“If it gets you home, what does it matter if it kills me, Y/n?” Dean exploded and you whimpered as a jolt of adrenaline coursed through your body.

“But if it doesn’t work, you’ll be dead and I’ll be stuck here _alone_!”

“It’ll work,” he whispered. He reached out and caressed her cheek, smiling. “It’ll work,” he repeated before turning back to the demon. “After she’s got the blood, what does she need to do?”

“She’ll need to say these words.” Anyanka handed you a list written in blue on a piece of bright white paper. “Three times.”

“That’s it? Blood and magic words and she gets to go home?” Dean asked, looking at the words on the paper.

“Blood and magic words and she gets to grovel before the big man to try to go home. Again, God is fickle. He might leave you to rot.”

“Worth a shot. Thanks, Anya. Let’s get outta here, Y/n.” Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you away toward the truck.

“Dean, I don’t know if I wanna risk-” you started as he climbed into the cab and set the bowl between you on the seat.

“Y/n, this is the only shot we have. We’re doing it.”

“Just because you feel guilty about how things went down with the other me and her babies, that doesn’t mean you have to kill yourself-”

“ _My_ babies!” he exclaimed. “My babies and my Y/n and I let them die because I couldn’t do the right thing for them. I’m gonna do the right thing for you, Y/n. We are going to get you home. We’re gonna summon God and get you home.”

There was no room for arguing as he drove you to the closest motel and got a room. You left your shoes outside the room and sat on the edge of the bed as Dean psyched himself up for suicide. So many horrible things had happened already, you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle Dean sacrificing himself like this.

“What if there’s another way?” you whispered as he pulled a small pocket knife out of his jeans. “Or what if…what if this is just demon trickery?”

“Stop, princess.” He walked over and kneeled in front of you, looking up into your eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise you.” He patted your knees and leaned up to kiss your cheek. “You don’t have to watch.”

You couldn’t watch. In fact, you covered your eyes with your hands and pressed your fingers into your lids as he groaned in pain. Tears fell around your fingertips as you heard his breathing slow.

“Well, this is not how I thought this was gonna happen at all,” an unfamiliar voice said. You gasped and pulled your hands away, blinking to adjust your eyes so that you could see the figure leaning over the blood-filled bowl to grab Dean’s open wrist. “What a waste.”

The room filled with light, making you blink more rapidly but when the light disappeared, the blood in the bowl was gone and Dean’s wrist was healed and you were finally able to focus on the figure. Short, blond, green eyes, and full lips twisted up into a smile. “Who are-”

“There are easier ways to get my attention,” she said, standing straight as Dean’s eyes fluttered. “Have you tried prayer?”


	11. Safe

**Summary** : Y/n has a conversation with God.

**Story Warnings** : mentions character death, horrible things, mentions sacrificial suicide, mentions of past noncon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who are you?" you asked.

She smiled, forcing the dimples on her cheeks to go deeper. "Who were you _trying_ to talk to with that whole blood sacrifice thing?"

" _You're_ God?" you asked, shocked.

"Not strictly, no, but I'm _your_ God. I'm the author of your existence, anyway," she answered flippantly as she paced a bit on the far side of the room. "I know, not what you expected. You were thinking big and tall, with a big white beard and a six-pack, right? Which, of _course_ that's what Michelangelo thought God looked like. He was hella-gay. His God of choice would be a silver fox." She chuckled before continuing. "Or were you thinking Morgan Freeman?"

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this woman in the pink plaid flannel was not it. "I don't-"

"Why don't you have a seat, hon? You look like you're gonna faint."

You swallowed heavily and sat on the edge of the bed, looking over at Dean to watch his chest rise and fall with his breathing. He was alive. "I don't understand what...what is…"

"Let me make it easy for you. My name is Cassie. You can call me that...or Crash, that's my pen name. I'm a writer." She pushed her dark blond hair out of her face and smiled softly. "You are a character I created. This is all a story."

"What?" you whispered, shaking your head. "No, it-"

"Yes," she insisted. "See, it all started with this fake dating prompt I got and my brain immediately went 'male escorts!' and then it went 'well, I'm plus-sized, I know _that's_ shitty during the holidays' and I wrote this one-shot...hooker-lawyer Sam and a plus-sized architect. I wasn’t expecting it to be popular, most of my stuff wasn't back then, but it blew up. I guess a lot of people could relate to your shitty family situation." Your jaw dropped slightly as you looked across the room. "And the readers started asking for more...which...I mean, I don’t write a lot of stuff that isn't heartbreaking so the more I wrote of your relationship with Sam, the darker it got. After I wrote…" She looked over at you and bit her lip. "After I wrote Honesty in the Aftermath, I figured everyone would be done with the characters, that they'd hate me for what Sam did to you, but then came the cries of 'fix it!' and the only way I could think to fix it was to bring Anya in, send you back to the beginning and put you with Dean."

You cringed at the mention of Honesty in the Aftermath, looking away from her. "So what, my life is just...entertainment?” A sick feeling of rage settled in you. "All that I've been through, it's just some sick-"

"Hey, I _gave_ you Dean, okay? I sent you back and I handed you Dean on a silver platter. I gave you the-the good sex and the eloping to Vegas and the twins! Never once did he have the issues Sam had. I gave you a perfect husband and a wonderful life to make up for what happened with this Sam."

"Then why am I back?" you demanded, eyes snapping to her as she continued pacing.

She sighed dramatically and threw her hands in the air. "I had to write the epilogue!" she despaired. "Writing is stupid, though. It’s ridiculous how much of this shit just happens, without the author's input, Y/n. I was writing Adam's graduation party and it was just supposed to be an epilogue but I'm writing it and Sam starts whispering in my ear, 'wouldn't it be terrible if I did something to get her back?' 'Wouldn't it be horrible if I got her back to the Darkest Timeline?' 'Wouldn't it be justice if I used a wish to get her back?'" She stopped pacing and turned to you. "And I started thinking about what this world would have been like as it progressed. Your timeline was so sickeningly happy, but this one...what happened to this Dean and Sam? What happened to this Y/n and Charlie? What happened to the baby here? If you had twins with Dean in the good timeline, wouldn't that increase the likelihood that you were pregnant with twins here? And of course they'd have to have different names because you named Marty and Melody for time travelers which wouldn't work in this timeline. My mind wouldn't let it go! I was coming up with answers to that shit before I even got you and Dean home after the party, I couldn't help it!"

You let out a scoff. God was insane.

"So...Wishverse Epilogue became Cave Quid Optes Prologue. I really didn't intend for this one to go so freaking dark. I mean, the wish, the Sam being back on drugs, your other self committing suicide with the babies to escape Sam, that was all intentional but I wasn't expecting him to force you again...or Charlie...fuck, and Dean sacrificing himself, while it does match with the source material, that was never part of the plan! What'd you do that for, you idiot?" she asked, kicking Dean's foot.

"What do you mean, it wasn't part of the plan? You’re God!" you exclaimed as Dean stirred in the chair.

"I don't _outline_ everything! I'm not a planner! I get a basic idea and I start writing. But I never would have considered Sam murdering Charlie! I wasn't even gonna have Charlie in the story until I realized that you would never drive all the way to New York without stopping to see her! And then Sam just...shit! It was painful to write that shit. But painful is what I'm good at, it's what I'm known for. Wet eyes and wet panties. I'm a smangst artist."

Dean blinked at her in confusion as you stood. "What the hell?"

"She's God and this is all just a story to make people sad," you answered.

She sighed. "Look, it's just the way it is. I've done way worse things to other characters, okay?"

"Whatever," Dean interrupted. "You’re God, you can take her home, right?"

"I mean, technically, this is the world she came from, so-"

"No!" Dean shouted. "Take her back to the place where she's happy! Take her back to the place where things are good! Take her back where she belongs!"

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, starting to pace again. "Okay, I get that I am _God_ and I can literally just write a sentence and she's back but a good story doesn't just have some magical fix and the conflict-"

Dean jumped to his feet and grabbed her by her collar, forcing her to stop her agitated movements as he slammed her into the wall. "Shut the fuck up about stories and conflict and drama. Y/n didn't do a damn thing to deserve this shit and you are going to fix it. I slit my wrist to get you here but I will slit your _throat_ if you don't take her back."

Your eyes went wide at him threatening God. "Dean," you whispered.

"You’re gonna take her back. Back to the good timeline. Back to the place Sam stole her from. You’re gonna take her back."

Crash licked her lip in between her teeth and stared up at him. "You are so handsome with all that murder in your eyes," she whispered before nodding. "Yeah. I'll write her back. I'll do it."

Dean’s eyes narrowed a bit before his grip on her shirt loosened. “You will?”

“What about Dean?” you asked, stepping forward.

“What about him? He’ll be waiting for you on the other side,” she said as Dean stepped back.

“No, _this_ Dean,” you insisted.

“What’s it matter? You’re going home,” God answered.

“It matters because Sam will kill him! This Dean is the Dean I fell for first. This Dean has suffered so much and he doesn’t deserve what will happen if...genie-Sam catches up to him!” you exclaimed.

Dean shook his head and took a step toward you. “Princess, it doesn’t matter what happens to me. All that matters is that you get back and live the rest of your life happy with the better me and your beautiful children. Please, don’t worry about me.”

You swallowed heavily, looking up into his eyes. “Of course I’m gonna worry about you. I love you, Dean.”

“No. You love _him_. I’m just a broken version of the one you deserve.” He reached out and tucked his fingers under your chin and tipped your head back. “He’s the one you made a good life with.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Go be happy.”

“How do I-” You turned your head to look at the author, but she was gone. “Where did she go?” Dean shook his head, looking around with you.

You were suddenly lying in bed, warm and comfortable, a heavy arm draped over your waist. You blinked your eyes open, a pit of fear in your stomach as you wondered who was in bed with you. You were terrified that you were going to turn over and see Sam, but you had to know. You turned your head, just enough to see the salt and pepper locks of your husband.

You let out a gasping sob and turned over, burying your face in his chest and crying. “Hey...shhh...it’s okay, princess,” he said, his voice deep with sleep as he rubbed his hand down your back.

“You don’t...you don’t even...you don’t know why I’m crying!” you said into his chest.

“Yeah, I...I _do_ ,” he responded, sounding a bit confused. You pulled back and looked up into his eyes. His eyebrows were scrunched together, his lips pursed in a confused ‘O’. “Did we meet God?”

“You shouldn’t remember that,” you whispered, sitting up fully. “You weren’t...y-you weren’t there.”

He licked his lips as he sat up next to you. “I remember it all, Y/n. I...the...whoa, that’s weird.” He ran his hand up his face to rub at his eyes. “Is this what it’s been like for you, livin’ with two different timelines in your head?”

“Wait, you have memories of the other timeline?”

He pulled his hand away and nodded. “I remember it. I-I remember...God, I remember losing you. I remember losing the twins, not-not _our_ twins but the other twins and I remember drowning in booze and...fuck, what Sam did to you...and Charlie and...I think I’m gonna be sick.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Dean.”

“No! No, it’s _not_. It’s not okay, Y/n. He was horrible! He was terrible and--he kidnapped you and held you hostage and he was on-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaimed, squeezing his hand. “You remember what we said when Anya brought us back from the other timeline? We dissociate. What happened over there doesn’t have any bearing on what happens over here. We can’t let it control us. We can’t let it alter us. We have to let it go.”

“Let it go?!” He shook his head and rolled out of your bed, completely unconcerned with his nudity. “He _tortured_ you, Y/n! He tortured you and he raped you again and he _stole_ you from me and then he killed Charlie and-”

“And it wasn’t this Sam!” You sighed heavily and shook your head. “For whatever reason, God gave you the memories from the other timeline and I know that’s gonna fuck you up but you’re just...you’re gonna have to learn to separate it out. The other timeline has to-to be like a bad dream, okay? It’s just a nightmare...that we shared. Okay?” You climbed off the bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay. Really. We’re in the good timeline and it’s gonna be okay.”

Dean wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Hey,” you whispered, pulling back and looking up at him. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” He licked his lips and shook his head, but you decided to focus on other things. “You remember going out to the bar? When I fell asleep in your arms for the first time...in the back of Baby?”

His eyes went far-away for a moment before he smiled softly. “Yeah. I remember it.” He looked down into your eyes and nodded. “That was...nice.”

“It was amazing. Just like every day with you. That’s what we need to focus on, Dean. The painful stuff is easier to remember, but we need to focus on the good...on each other.”

“On my strong as fuck wife, who escaped a monster with nothin’ more than her big, beautiful brain,” he said, smiling.

“On my wonderful husband, who sacrificed himself to get me an audience with God.”

Dean shook his head as the look of self-hatred took his eyes. “It’s gonna take some doin’ to get past this pit of self-hatred from the other side, isn’t it?”

“I know a good therapist...if you alter the story so you don’t seem completely nuts, he can help you with that,” you said, smiling. He let out an amused scoff. “Are you okay?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna be all right.”

“Okay. Good. Because I have to go call Charlie, like...right now.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He sighed. “I’m gonna call Sam. I gotta...hear his voice...gotta hear this Sam.”

“That’s a good idea,” you said, nodding, before walking over to your purse to grab your phone.

“Hey, princess?” he started as he grabbed his own phone. You turned back to look at him. “I love you.”

“I know,” you responded with a smile.


End file.
